A Challenging Match
by ecaterana
Summary: Marcus Flint OC. Begins right before POA, but is fully HBP compliant. Completed.
1. Chapter 1

Here follows another story in answer to a challenge by my group. The story begins during the summer between Chamber of Secrets and Prisoner of Azkaban. Naturally none of Ms Rowling's characters belong to me and this story is merely speculation for entertainment. I have no affiliation whatsoever with Bloomsbury, Warner Brothers, or Scholastic.

**Chapter 1**

"You don't have to stay with us after tea if you are uncomfortable, dear. It may seem odd that Celestina is still bringing her son today, since Eldred and Wilfred are at your uncle's house, but since he is going to be here then I would like for you to at least remain through tea, Etheldreda."

Looking at her mother with a disappointed face, the young woman who was seated on a stiff ebony chair and holding a glossy magazine with a picture of a smiling witch on the front answered peevishly, "But I promised Wendelin that I would bring over the latest issue of _Young Witch_ this afternoon. It is the Beautification Potions issue."

Wulfrida Yaxley frowned and made a gesture of annoyance before replying in a distracted voice, "You ought to have told me, Dreda. I am afraid that I have already promised Celestina that you will be there, so I am going to have to ask you to Floo Wendelin and tell her that you will come tomorrow." Turning round and seeing her daughter's unhappy face, Wulfrida added, "I have already spoken with your father about getting you the Kneazle, Dreda, and he has said that he will look about for private breeders, so perhaps that will make you feel more cheerful."

Jumping up from her chair, Etheldreda Yaxley threw her arms round her mother's neck and kissed her heavily powdered cheek. "I just know Daddy will listen to _you_! And I promise I will be careful, really I will."

Untangling herself from her daughter's arms, Wulfrida patted her carefully coiffed blond hair as she replied, "I'm sure that you will, Dreda, since your father does insist on allowing that nasty Runespoor to roam the ground storey. We don't want a reoccurrence of what happened to your Puffskein."

Dreda shook her head and kissed her mother's cheek again before glancing over at the clock on the mantelpiece. "I had better Floo Wen then and go change. Is Daddy going to come down?"

Wulfrida, who was checking her reflection anxiously in the mirror hanging between two large glass doors that led to the garden outside, answered, "Of course not. You know how he feels about the Flints, Dreda. Why don't you put on the new green robe? I will let you wear my emerald bangle if you want, too."

Dreda stopped on the point of leaving the room and looked back at her mother. "For a tea?"

Wulfrida turned and fixed a quelling eye on her daughter. "Go and change, Etheldreda."

"Yes, Mother." Dreda exited the sitting room and walked down the long corridor to the staircase near the rear of the house. As she trudged up the stairs, Dreda wondered why Celestina Flint could possibly want to drag her son to tea when neither of the twins was home to play Quidditch with him. Dreda was certain that Marcus had been a seventh-year the year before, so at least they couldn't be planning to ask her to tutor him. Therefore, since it was likely to have little to do with her, Dreda turned her mind to what robes she should wear to best please her mother.

When she arrived at the first storey, Dreda knocked on the door to her parents' bedroom and waited. When no one answered, she opened the door and passed through the bedroom into her mother's dressing room. Sitting down at the dressing table, Dreda peered into the sparkling silver mirror that hung in front of her. Seeing nothing more remarkable than a pair of light brown eyes and the dull black of the Yaxley family hair, Dreda shrugged her shoulders and opened up the goblin-wrought silver jewel box that lay in the centre of the table.

It seemed to Dreda that her mother had even more golden trinkets in the multi-tiered jewel case than the last time that Dreda had looked, but it did not take very long for her to find the bangle that her mother had wanted her to wear. Momentarily distracted by the earrings that her father had given Mother after his Augurey had eaten part of Mother's new hat, Dreda held one earring up to her ear and tilted her head as she looked at her reflection. Deciding immediately that she looked ridiculous, Dreda carefully laid the earring back in its place and slipped the emerald bracelet carved with writhing serpents over her small hand and shut the jewel box. Acutely aware that she only had twenty minutes to groom herself to her mother's exacting standards, Dreda hurried from the dressing room past the dark, panelled bed in her parents' room and out into the corridor.

Over an hour later, Dreda was seated in the drawing room, disinterestedly listening to her mother and Celestina Flint talk animatedly about another witch whose husband had been charged with selling a cursed tea kettle to a Muggle. The only other person in the room, Celestina's son Marcus, had for almost twenty minutes been lounged back in his chair nervously fidgeting as he stared morosely at the large tapestry that hung over the cherry wood sideboard behind where Dreda was sitting. Neither she nor Marcus had been an active participant in the conversation for almost thirty minutes. Consequently, it was unfortunate that a large clock with its numerous hands and whirling dials had been placed directly across from Dreda's chair so she could watch the minutes slowly creep along.

Just as Dreda was rechecking the smallest dial of the clock, which confirmed that there were, as ever, no Muggles within the Yaxley property, Dreda realised that her mother's conversation had stopped. She turned in time to see Celestina Flint speaking with a laugh in her voice that was not matched by the expression in her eyes. "You know Wulfa; I believe that our children are a little bored by us."

Immediately sitting straighter in her chair and looking at her mother in consternation, Dreda noticed her mother nod almost imperceptibly before Celestina continued speaking. "Perhaps Etheldreda could take Marcus out to show him those Serbian Beater's bats that Eldred has been telling him to order for the Slytherin team. I'm sure a nice walk outdoors would be preferable to listening to two old witches nattering away."

Dreda saw out of the corner of her eye that Marcus was now sitting forward in his chair and looking at his mother with a displeased expression on his face. Glancing at her own mother, Dreda could tell that Wulfrida was embarrassed by her friend's blatant ploy, but that Dreda was nevertheless going to be expected to comply. Speaking as politely as possible, Dreda said, "Yes, ma'am."

Dreda turned to Marcus, who had apparently been given similar nonverbal orders by his mother and was now standing up from the table. Dreda followed Marcus to the door and, after he hurriedly pulled it open, she led him down the corridor towards a side door of the house.

As soon as they were outside, however, Marcus spoke gruffly, "You don't have to show me Eldred's bats."

Dreda looked questioningly up at him. "We might as well if you want to see them. Our mothers won't be pleased if we go back too soon will they?"

Marcus, who looked supremely uncomfortable, replied tonelessly, "You are probably right."

Since she was aware that Marcus knew the way to the shed where her brothers kept their Quidditch equipment as well as she did, Dreda began walking in the direction of her brothers' practice pitch with the assumption that Marcus was following. She could feel the unease of the wizard beside her, but could not think of anything to say that might make the situation any less awkward. Although Marcus had frequently played Quidditch with her brothers during the days when Eldred and Wilfred had been home from Durmstrang and Hogwarts was also on holiday, Dreda had rarely ever spoken to Marcus herself.

As Dreda raised her long black wand to release the spell on the door of the shed, she sensed Marcus shifting uneasily as he waited next to her. When the door had flung open, Dreda pointed with her wand towards a shelf near the back of the small building. "I think that the case is up there next to my old training broom."

Marcus reached to pull down the case and asked stiffly, "What sort of broom do you ride now?"

Dreda frowned, "I don't. I used to slip out here and ride Eldred's old Nimbus 1800, but when I fell off and broke both arms and the broom Daddy refused to let me get a new one. Wilfred lets me use his when Eldred isn't home, but Eldred is too afraid that I'll be hurt again so he makes me use the training broom."

Marcus looked at the well-worn training broom and said with a note of pity, "That looks like the one I had, but mine wouldn't go higher than six feet from the ground."

Dreda nodded. "Mine won't either, so it isn't terribly useful."

Marcus opened the case with one hand, but continued looking at Dreda as he said, "I used to try to play games on it with my cousin, but those brooms are pretty useless unless you are playing Shuntbumps."

Dreda shrugged. "Well you know Will and Eldred. They wouldn't let me play Quidditch with them. Will let me play Keeper once, but when a Quaffle left just one little bruise on my face Eldred put an end to that. So I just fly about the garden for fun, which isn't quite as frustrating on a training broom as Quidditch would be."

Marcus nodded and turned his attention to the case and looked at the Beater's bats. He picked one up and took a swipe through the air with it. "Not bad."

"Want to try it? I know the spell combination to Will's Quidditch box. I can take out a training Bludger."

Dreda saw Marcus look at her with surprise before he nodded. "Might as well, yeah. Is it international-standard size?"

Dreda shook her head, "I have no idea. I don't know enough about it." She spent several seconds working her wand over a long blue box with her brother's initials stamped in silver on the top, before she bent down and opened the lid.

Marcus stepped forward brusquely, "You'd better let me take it out. They are hard to manage if you don't know how."

Dreda moved out of the way and watched as Marcus pulled out the training Bludger and wedged it firmly under his arm. He grabbed one of the bats and then nodded to Dreda.

They both went out onto her brothers' practice pitch and as Marcus walked out into the centre of the field, Dreda headed for a nearby short stone wall to sit down. She watched as Marcus turned to see where she was before he threw the Bludger into the air. As the bat made contact with the Bludger, Dreda heard a loud thwacking sound and wondered whether it was true that Marcus was such a good player. Wilfred had told her that Marcus was possibly an international-standard Chaser. However what she had heard at school, especially after one particularly unpleasant Ravenclaw-Slytherin game, was that Marcus' play was incredibly dirty, his techniques were underhanded, and that these two characteristics dominated any possible skill he might have had.

She sat watching as Marcus collected the Bludger after hitting it four or five times against the large Beating Wall that Eldred used for practising. She considered whether Wilfred would react poorly to the fact that she opened his trunk to let Marcus use his Bludger, but decided with some feeling of annoyance that there was far more likely to be trouble if Eldred ever heard that she had been on the practice pitch within range of a flying Bludger. As Marcus walked towards her, Dreda stood up from the wall and brushed off her robes.

Marcus was clamping his arm tightly round the Bludger as he said in an uncertain voice, "Probably shouldn't be hitting this about with you sitting so close. If I hit it wrong it might hurt you."

Dreda bit her lip slightly before replying lightly, "And then Eldred would kill you."

Marcus did not smile as he nodded stiffly, "True. Maybe we ought to put this back now."

"Possibly and then it has probably been long enough that we could go back in after we lock the shed."

Marcus did not respond until they had reached the door to the shed. "I am sorry if Mum embarrassed you. I didn't know she was going to do that."

Dreda waited for Marcus to lift the lid of the trunk before she replied, "That's alright. It was nicer not to have to listen to them talk about Polluxa Wargley really."

Marcus did not answer, since he was struggling to force the Bludger into its restraints. Dreda rested against the doorframe and watched a spider crossing the floor as she waited. The summer holiday was almost over. There was only one week left for her to finish up her summer assignments, especially the essay for Professor Snape on the benefits of using the Forgetfulness Potion instead of an Obliviating Charm.

"I've done if you wanted to redo Will's Locking Charm."

Dreda turned her attention back to Marcus, who was standing hunched over as he waited for her to relock the trunk. It occurred to her that she had never seen Marcus looking unconfident about anything before, but that he had looked extremely ill at ease since leaving the house. Surely speaking to the younger sister of wizards he had known for years shouldn't be so arduous for him. Unlike her, Marcus probably didn't have to obey his mother's every wish. Why did he come? Surely a tea with three witches would not appeal to him.

"You're a sixth-year, aren't you?"

Dreda nodded her head. "Yes, I'm only a year younger than Eldred and Will."

"But you're Ravenclaw aren't you?"

Dreda cast a defensive look at Marcus. "Yes. I know you were in Slytherin."

Marcus scowled as he answered in a low voice, "Still will be. I am doing the year again."

Dreda raised her eyebrows in surprise before saying, "So you'll still be Quidditch Captain then. Your house will be happy about that."

Marcus shrugged his shoulders and did not reply. As they walked back to the house, Dreda wondered how poorly Marcus must have done on his NEWTs to have his parents send him for another seventh-year. Roger Davies was going to have fits when he found out that Marcus Flint was returning.

Dreda was surprised to hear Marcus clear his throat slightly and ask, "Do you like Quidditch?"

"I suppose so. I go to the Ravenclaw games, of course, but I don't really follow any teams or anything." Realising that she was talking to someone who was probably as Quidditch obsessed as her brother Eldred, Dreda continued somewhat less dampingly, "Eldred likes the Arrows, of course. Who do you like?"

Marcus' hard face began to look more animated as he said, "I used to support the Magpies, naturally, since they are such a top drawer team. But I have been following the Falcons recently. I really think that they have potential this year. Grant has been training with some new moves, I understand."

"Oh, Will would agree with you, wouldn't he? He has always said that the Falcons play the hardest game."

"Yes, they do. Some teams in the league have really got soft in their play. No reason why the Falcons shouldn't shake things up a bit."

Dreda shook her head, "I don't really know much about them. I've been to several Arrows games with Will and Eldred, because they are our local team of course, but I haven't ever seen the Falcons. Daddy always refused to let Will bring me to those matches."

Marcus nodded and said seriously, "Probably for the best, actually. The games can be a little rough sometimes, especially if there are many Falcons fans in the stands."

As Marcus held open the door to the house with one large, rough hand, Dreda walked through and replied, "That was what Daddy said, but Wilfred thinks that is what makes it fun."

Marcus let out a short bark of laughter and Dreda could see his large jagged teeth sticking out from his mouth. "That I can believe." He opened the door to the drawing room and the amused expression disappeared from Marcus' face as both of them walked inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter** **2**

The tall blond witch wearing Quidditch practice robes and sitting across from two dark-haired Ravenclaws pointed at the picture of a fat, broad faced baby and asked seriously, "Isn't he precious? I never thought Violetta and Hilliard would be able to produce something this decent really."

Wendelin Burke and Dreda Yaxley exclaimed in unison, "Rosamunde!"

Rosamunde Dawlish shrugged her shoulders and replied defensively, "Well Violetta is normal enough, but Hilliard is really the oddest wizard. Of course the entire Hobday family is strange, but Father was too thrilled that they'd married Violetta off to a wizard after her last boyfriend."

Wendelin finished chewing a mouthful of toast and asked, "The Muggle musician?"

"Yes. I don't know how Violetta could stand it. He was always touring with his band anyway."

Dreda considered the picture of the ugly baby and said thoughtlessly, "I don't know why anyone would want to date a Muggle really, even one who writes romantic Mugglish songs about you. But I'm sure Egmont will be very normal, Rosamunde, despite Hilliard's contribution. Is he walking yet?"

Rosamunde looked somewhat irritated, but said only, "No, but Grandmother is ever so pleased because she is convinced that Egmont changed the mashed beets and liver that Violetta was feeding him into treacle porridge."

Wendelin grimaced and choked on her muffin. Dreda pulled a face and asked, "Did he, you think?"

Rosamunde, who still had not touched the food she had piled on her plate, replied, "Well if someone were feeding _you_ beets and liver, wouldn't you?"

Wendelin, who had just stopped coughing, added, "Anyone would."

Dreda nodded. "So he is already showing signs of magic though? That's excellent."

Rosamunde pushed aside her eggs with a fork and replied, "Yes. Violetta didn't display the smallest bit of magical ability until she was five. Father was very afraid that it was Mother's influence, of course, since the Dawlishs are typically very magical. But then Violetta did get Sorted into Hufflepuff, poor darling, and one can't expect much from that lot."

Wendelin, who was the only Ravenclaw in a mixed family of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins said warningly, "Rosa."

Dreda, who was also the first Ravenclaw in her family, said gently, "Rosamunde didn't mean that all Hufflepuffs are stupid, Wen. But you wouldn't rather be in Hufflepuff would you? I know I'm glad I didn't get Sorted into Slytherin, although Uncle Edmund is still so appalled that a Yaxley could be Sorted anywhere else that he swears that the Sorting Hat must have been Confunded."

Rosamunde sighed and pushed away her plate. "The first reserve practice of the year and I can't eat a thing. Davies is in a right state about Flint being back. I don't want to think about what it is going to be like this morning. He wants all of us reserves to be fit to fly at a second's notice."

Wendelin snorted. "Honestly, how thick do you have to be to fail _all_ of your NEWTs? I heard that he got a Troll in History."

Rosamunde laughed loudly, "Well he looks like a troll, so that isn't surprising."

As Wendelin and Rosamunde continued to snigger, Dreda looked surreptitiously over at the Slytherin table where she could see the wide shoulders and dark hair of Marcus Flint, who was facing away from them. She could make out from his posture that he was unhappy about something and speaking angrily to another large dark-haired Slytherin, who she thought was named Montague.

"Are you two coming down to the pitch? Because it is time for me to go. Davies will have my broom if I'm late again."

Wendelin and Dreda both finished a last mouthful of breakfast and stood up to follow Rosamunde from the Great Hall. As Dreda stepped backwards from the table and bent to get her bag, she heard a chair scrape forcefully and something being dropped loudly on a table. When she stood up and looked about, she noticed Marcus striding angrily towards the door to the Great Hall. Following Rosamunde and Wendelin, Dreda reached the door just as Marcus was pushing it open to exit.

However as he began to walk through the door, Rosamunde said nastily, "Such a gentleman, Flint."

Turning round with a look of malice that made even Rosamunde step back, Marcus opened his mouth to speak and then stopped. Dreda watched a confused expression come over his face as he said, "Dreda, erm, I didn't see you." Then with a hasty shove, he opened the door again and awkwardly stood back.

After only a moment of hesitation, Dreda grabbed Wendelin's arm, walked through the door, and turned her head to look behind her. Marcus had pushed through the door directly after Wendelin and allowed it to close behind him so that Rosamunde had to catch it quickly before it could hit her in the face.

Fixing Marcus with an angry glare, Dreda said, "Are you alright, Rosa?"

Rosamunde turned on Marcus with a snarl, "You really are a troll, aren't you? It's a wonder you can even lace your boots without help. Just you watch out on the pitch, Flint, because Ravenclaw are looking forward to sweeping you lot in November."

Wendelin grabbed Rosamunde's arm, saying, "Rosa! That's enough. You were meant to be at practice five minutes ago."

Dreda watched Marcus as he looked with pure loathing at her friend before he answered, "Too bad you aren't good enough to be out there with Ravenclaw during the game, Dawlish. Looks like you'll be spared what Slytherin has to offer _this_ time."

Wendelin tugged determinedly on Rosamunde's arm and said in a loud whisper, "You can't be caught for fighting again, Rosa! They'll finally drop you from the reserves." Rosamunde glared at Marcus, pulled herself free of Wendelin's grasp, and turned to leave.

Deciding that her pity for Marcus had been mistakenly placed, Dreda turned abruptly to follow her friends outside. She could hear a grunt behind her and a thud, so she looked back momentarily to see that Marcus had apparently banged his head against the stone wall of the corridor and was standing with his head leaning against his hands on the wall. Unconcerned with what Marcus was doing to himself, Dreda jogged ahead to catch up with her friends as they headed down to the practice pitch.

* * *

"If someone asked you to go to Hogsmeade though, would you?"

Dreda peered at Rosamunde, who was gazing out the window of their dorm room. "I don't know. That would depend on who asked, of course. But really, I'd rather if we all just went together like we usually do."

"Wendelin is going with Dom Bradley, remember?"

"No, you didn't tell me! You finally convinced him to ask her?"

Rosamunde turned her head back towards Dreda and replied, "Yes, the stupid prat was so afraid that she would say no even though I told him she was interested. You wouldn't think someone who was such an excellent Chaser would be so hen-hearted about asking a witch out."

Dreda nodded, "Especially since he's known her for years. I'm glad he did though; she'll be so pleased. You aren't sorry you turned down Warrington, are you?"

"No. Even if I didn't mind that Warrington is about as intelligent as a Horklump, or that he _purposely_ sent that Quaffle at my head so I would fall off my broom last year when I was in for MacGruder, or that his laugh sounds like a goat, I wouldn't go anywhere with anyone that is friends with that great hulking beast, Flint. Not a chance."

Dreda shrugged. "Right. So we'll go together then."

"Yes. You, me, Jonathan, and Barbary."

"Wait, why is Harold coming? He didn't break up with Edra again, did he?"

Rosamunde finished the last bite of her Chocolate Frog and tossed the Famous Wizard card on her bed. "She turfed him this time. She wanted him to ask his brother for tickets for the next show, but he wouldn't."

"Why not? Heathcote is nice enough; he'd give them to Harold."

Rosamunde hesitated for a moment as she tried to decide whether a brownish coloured Bertie Botts' was safe to eat. "But you know Barbary, he's always afraid that people are friends with him because of his brother."

Dreda nodded. "He's probably right some of the time. Well, at least no one wants to be friendly with me due to _my_ family. Do you remember the summer after our first year when Father found Wen feeding his Augurey a Gobstone? I was so afraid that she wouldn't want to speak to me at school after that, regardless of being cousins."

Rosamunde smiled grimly, "I had forgot about that. But I suspect that Wen is used to wizards like your father considering her own family."

Dreda took a handful of Bertie Botts' from Rosamunde's proffered box. "Well the Burke family, yes. Some of Mother's relatives are really quite unpleasant. But Uncle Hubert is much nicer than my other Burke uncles and Aunt Althea was a Rufford, who are quite a normal sort of family. All of Wen's sisters are quite nice, I think."

"But her brothers."

Dreda shrugged, "Not much worse than Eldred and Wilfred, really. Are you going to keep your Wizard Card? Because Wen's youngest sister is starting a collection and she probably doesn't have a Bragge."

Rosamunde flicked the card onto Dreda's bed and asked, "So no one has asked you for the Hogsmeade weekend?"

Dreda looked suspiciously at Rosamunde. "Why?"

"No reason."

Dreda sat up from leaning over to put the card in her trunk. "Why, Rosa?"

"Well I thought that there was someone who was going to ask you, that's all."

Dreda said uncomfortably, "Well I don't know how you know about that."

Rosamunde's expression became very confused. "Well of course I know. He has pestered me about whether you were interested."

Dreda stared at Rosamunde for a moment before replying, "We can't be talking about the same person."

Rosamunde sat up and clapped her hands happily, "Oh, who is it? Who asked you? You aren't going to go with him?"

Dreda shook her head, "No. I told him that I don't like people who are not nice to my friends."

Rosamunde's expression clouded again. "Oh, do I know this person?"

Dreda sighed. "Yes, but it doesn't matter. I'm not going with him. Who did you think was going to ask me?"

Rosamunde shrieked, "You can't not tell me!"

Dreda stood up from the bed and said firmly, "No, I am not going to embarrass him, Rosa."

"Etheldreda!"

"Now if you would tell me who you thought would ask me that would be far more interesting."

Rosamunde huffed with irritation and said, "Well he doesn't want you to know he is interested in you because he is afraid you would say no."

Dreda pulled a sour face. "Well that's rather pathetic. If he doesn't ask then he'll never know."

Rosamunde started to respond, but stopped when the door to the bedroom began to open. "There you are, Wen. Where have you been?"

Wendelin sat down on Dreda's bed with an exhausted sigh. "I was talking to Dom."

Rosamunde tilted her head and said wryly, "That doesn't sound good for Bradley. What did he do?"

Wendelin looked surprised. "Oh, Dom didn't do anything wrong. He's sort of sweet really, don't you think? It was when some of the Slytherin team passed us and wanted to start something. What's that big dark one that looks like a gorilla?"

Rosamunde said with narrowed eyes, "Warrington."

"Maybe. Anyway, he looked to be in a real nark about something. I think they might have actually started a duel there in the courtyard if those two ginger-headed Gryffindors from the team hadn't come up to stand with Dom."

"The Weasley twins? They are more likely to start trouble then stop it."

Wendelin waved her hand dismissively, "Nevertheless those two came over to support Dom and then Flint came along and told the other Slytherins to shove off. I was never more surprised. I had to drag Dom away from it though, because the Weasleys seemed inclined to finish with Flint."

Dreda spoke for the first time, "Did they?"

Wendelin replied, "No. Flint went off with his Slytherins and he didn't look too pleased with them either."

Rosamunde snorted, "Probably didn't want them brawling where they could get caught so easily. But you and Dom are together then?"

Wendelin blushed slightly. "Not exactly together. We haven't done anything but take a walk round the lawns. But I like him."

Dreda commented seriously, "I like Dom Bradley. He seems like a decent bloke and he's not the sort of Quidditch player who thinks only of Quidditch."

Wendelin dug into Rosamunde's box of Bertie Botts' and answered as she bit into a dark green one, "Exactly. Eurgh, this one tastes like moss."

* * *

"Dreda?"

Lifting her head from her pillow and pulling back the curtains so she could see Rosamunde, Dreda replied softly, "Yes?"

Rosamunde's voice was uncertain as she asked, "You know it was Jonathan who was going to ask you, don't you?"

Dreda flopped back onto her pillow. "Yes."

"I thought so. You acted differently round him today. Barbary even noticed it. I thought you liked Jonathan."

Dreda heard her friend's voice too clearly and had an idea that she was not the only witch in the room who was listening. "I do, he is very nice. But I don't like him in quite that way. I'm glad he didn't ask me to Hogsmeade, since I would have felt like I ought to say yes. It would have been a bad plan, Rosa."

Rosamunde asked in a whisper that was still a little too loud, "Are you interested in someone else?"

Dreda closed the curtains to her bed with one hand as she replied, "Can't we talk about this tomorrow, Rosa?"

There was silence for a few moments before Dreda heard the reply, "Yes, but don't think that I will let this go."

"I don't. Good night, Rosa."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter** **3**

Dreda was dressed and out of the dormitories at least an hour before any of her friends had even waked. She needed to escape for a little while in order to think things over. Last year she would have been pleased to know that Jonathan fancied her. Yet now she was rather annoyed to discover that Jonathan was interested. It was terribly inconvenient when one's close friend fancied one. It could upset one's whole group of friends.

Dreda had planned to go out towards the lawns near the lake. However once outside she had changed her mind and chosen to take a walk, deciding that she had too much on her mind to sit still for any length of time. It was extremely early, yet she had already seen some students in the corridors and did not really want to meet any of them.

As she approached the Quidditch pitch, Dreda could hear someone shouting and the unmistakable sound of a Beater's bat being used on a Bludger. Immediately, Dreda turned away and started to walk quickly in the other direction, which would take her away from the Quidditch pitch and towards the Forbidden Forest. As she neared the locker rooms, Dreda's steps quickened even more until she was almost running away towards the forest.

But before she got beyond a few yards past the locker rooms, Dreda could hear the door to the broom shed suddenly open and slam shut behind her as a gruff voice muttered, "Damn Malfoy, the rotten minger."

Dreda stopped running and slowly turned her head back and saw that Marcus was standing by the broom shed holding a bloody arm that was clearly giving him a great deal of pain.

It wasn't until after he had kicked the door of the shed angrily that Marcus himself turned and saw her. Immediately he took two steps forward and called out, "Dreda!"

Dreda remained standing where she was and waited for him to walk towards her, his hurt arm hanging limply at his side.

"Dreda, what are you doing out here?"

Dreda answered unwillingly, "I wanted some time alone to think, so I was taking a walk."

Marcus stopped walking towards her and said flatly, "I see. I'm sorry that I interrupted you then."

"You ought to go to Madame Pomfrey, Marcus. Your arm is really hurt."

Looking down at his arm as if he had forgot it was even there, Marcus replied, "I have to finish up this practice. I can't leave Montague in charge or Malfoy will…I have to go back."

Dreda frowned, but did not reply. As they stood together in awkward silence, they could both hear a loud thud from inside the Quidditch pitch. "Right, I'll let you go back then, Marcus."

Bringing his eyes back to Dreda from looking anxiously towards the Quidditch pitch, Marcus said, "Dreda, would you meet me tonight? Just for a walk."

"I already talked to you about this, Marcus. You know why I don't want to…"

Marcus winced as he moved his arm to appeal to her. "I didn't say anything worse than she did, Dreda. Look, if Dawlish doesn't say anything more to me than I promise that I won't say anything to her."

Knowing very well that he had a point, Dreda nodded. "That may be true, but if she knows that I have gone on a walk with you then she will say plenty."

Marcus grunted. "Right…right…well, eh, never mind then."

Dreda pulled her cloak round her against the chill and then started to turn away. She knew that Marcus was still watching her, so she said, "You had better go back."

"Dreda."

She turned about once more and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"I can't promise much more than that, but I will try. Please, just a walk."

"_Just_ a walk?"

Marcus moved forward so that he was within arms length of her and said, "I promise."

"One walk, one chance. You play foul with my friends and it is finished."

Marcus wiped his face uncomfortably. "I understand."

"You have to go back to your practice. I will meet you at seven."

"Right, ok…where?"

"I don't know, in the courtyard I suppose."

"Okay, I'll be there, Dreda."

Dreda turned on her heel and began walking as quickly away from Marcus as she could without running.

* * *

It was almost quarter past seven when Dreda was able to escape the Ravenclaw common-room and her friends. She had not meant to be late, since that would be unnecessarily unkind to Marcus. However she also had not been ready to tell her friends exactly where she was going and why. Therefore Dreda had been forced to wait until a moment when she could get away without being seen. Rosamunde, Wendelin, and Jonathan were all busy with an Arithmancy assignment that she had already finished, so Dreda had made a quick excuse and fled from the room. 

As she crossed the corridor towards the doors, patting her hair into place and wondering if she should have changed her robes, Dreda could see two wizards standing and talking outside. She was pretty sure that one of them was Montague and certain that the other was Marcus. Neither of them noticed her as she stepped outside, so she could hear them speaking as she approached.

Growling angrily, Marcus spoke in a low voice, "I have something else to do, that's all. You go and speak with him if you're so bloody impatient. I'm busy."

The other Slytherin waved his hands and asked sharply, "What do you mean you're busy? This is important, Flint. It was your idea."

"I told you, not now."

Dreda paused a few feet away and saw that the other Slytherin had noticed her. He spoke menacingly with a sneer, "What do you want? Does this look like it concerns you, Ravenclaw?"

Marcus turned round and when he saw Dreda he gripped his classmate's arm and twisted it painfully as he said, "Montague, this is Etheldreda Yaxley, Eldred and Wilfred Yaxley's sister."

Dreda looked at Marcus and shook her head disapprovingly at him, but Marcus had already let go of Montague, who replied nervously, "Yaxley? I didn't know they had a sister. It is, erm, nice to have met you. I will, eh, we can talk about this later, Flint."

Dreda stepped back as Montague pushed past her with a nod and a curious look at Marcus. Marcus immediately moved next to Dreda and said, "I am sorry about Montague. He is a clot. I'll sort him later."

"It doesn't matter about Montague. I didn't mean to be late, Marcus."

Marcus shrugged. "It is alright Dreda. I'm glad that you came. Are you ready to go?"

Nodding, Dreda asked, "Where are we going precisely?"

Looking down nervously at her, Marcus replied, "Would you like to go down by the lake?"

"That sounds nice, I think."

They walked silently towards the lake, neither of them looking at each other. After almost a minute of silence, Dreda asked, "How is your arm?"

Marcus looked surprised. "It is fine. It wasn't anything serious, just a small fracture, easily fixed."

"That's good. Your first match is soon, isn't it?"

Marcus scowled. "Yes, but we need another month of good practice before we'll be ready. Bole isn't half as steady on his broom as his brother was and my seeker doesn't seem to have practised the entire summer."

Dreda frowned, "Don't you have a reserve Seeker?"

"Suggs is the reserve."

"Is he fit to play?"

Marcus laughed shortly, "Well at the moment he's better than Malfoy. But it doesn't matter. I have to play Malfoy."

Dreda looked askance at Marcus before asking, "Why?"

Marcus answered tersely, "Because my team rides Nimbus 2001s."

Having a long experience with the ways of bribery and manipulation, Dreda did not pretend not to know what Marcus meant. "I see. Do you think that the trade was worth it?"

Marcus looked quickly at Dreda before turning back to where they were headed. "We won the cup last year, didn't we? Would you like to sit down here?"

Dreda looked towards where Marcus was pointing and said, "Alright."

"You aren't too cold are you? It is getting windy."

Dreda shook her head. "It is windy, but I am fine for the moment."

Marcus cleared his throat as he checked the ground with his foot for dampness. "I could do a Warming Charm if you need one."

Dreda smiled a little at the classic ploy, but answered, "Perhaps, if I do get cold then I will tell you."

At a gesture from him that he thought the ground was dry enough to sit on; Dreda gathered her cloak under her and sat down gingerly. As Marcus dropped his considerable bulk heavily next to her, Dreda was pointedly looking out at the lake in front of them.

"Have you heard from Eldred or Will?"

Dreda did not turn to look at him, but continued to gaze out over the water as she answered. "Yes. I wrote on Thursday to Will about the new Defence teacher, Lupin, and I received his response this morning. Professor Lupin seems to really know what he is doing. It is nice to have finally got someone decent, you know? But I had written that it is frustrating to always hear from Eldred all the interesting things that they are learning at Durmstrang, and yet we can't learn them here. Of course Will wrote back to tell me that I have no business wanting to learn anything about the Dark Arts except how to protect myself. Trust me that he is going to want to censor Eldred's owls to me now."

Marcus laughed. "Do you know that when they used to talk about you I had the idea that you were at least five or six years younger than they are? You always stayed away whenever I was at your house to play Quidditch, so I had forgot until recently that you are so close in age."

Dreda turned her head and faced Marcus. "Do they talk about me like I'm a baby even to everyone else?"

Marcus nodded. "Not that they discuss you often, since mostly we talk about Quidditch, of course. I fully expect to receive a very nasty owl in a day or two from one of them."

Dreda wrinkled her brow and said, "Brothers are an incredible pain."

Marcus rubbed his thick, dark hair with one hand as he replied, "I wouldn't know."

Dreda shivered slightly as a cold wind rushed round them and changed the subject. "What classes are you taking?"

Marcus looked intently at Dreda as if trying to be certain that she wasn't making fun of him. "I have to do the same as last year. Defence, Charms, and Astronomy. They let me drop History, because the examiner said…anyway I only have three classes."

"Which one do you like the most do you think?"

Marcus shrugged. "Defence, obviously. None of the others really matter to me. I shouldn't think that I will use NEWT level Charms or Astronomy ever again after Hogwarts. I don't think it matters to Quidditch teams whether I have one NEWT or six."

Dreda looked surprised. "Is that what you are going to do? Play professionally?"

Marcus shifted away from her slightly and looked uncomfortable as he answered, "What else would I do? I already got an offer from a team, but my father wanted me to get my NEWTs so I had to turn the offer down."

Dreda heard the anger in Marcus' voice and considered how embarrassing it must have been for Marcus to come back to school that year. He would have been aware that everyone was laughing at him. "I think I'm getting a little cold, Marcus."

After a quick glace at her, Marcus pulled out a short, dark pointy wand and leant forward to cast a complex Warming Charm nonverbally. Dreda smiled, completely aware that he was showing off. "Thank you. I hate windy nights, don't you?"

Tucking his wand back in a pocket, Marcus placed his hand on the ground behind where Dreda was sitting so he was closer to her and replied, "Only when I'm playing, but I don't get cold easily."

Dreda pulled up her legs and propped up her head on her knees, saying, "I do. It seems like I'm always cold in the castle, too. I had to get Daddy to send double-lined uniform robes to me last winter. They had to do them specially, which surprised me. It seems like I can't be the only witch who is always chilled with all those draughts."

Marcus spoke in a low voice as he continued to sit close to her. "I am sure that you aren't, but you are very small so you will get colder easier, won't you?"

Dreda was not particularly sensitive about her petite size yet she had been unusually aware of it as she sat so near to the overly large wizard beside her. With a frown she replied, "I suppose so. I think perhaps we ought to continue with the walk, Marcus."

Marcus looked slightly hurt as he pulled back from her and said, "If you want."

Dreda nodded, so Marcus pushed himself up from the ground with a grunt and, after brushing his cloak off, turned to her with his hand extended. Dreda hesitated and then placed her hand in his. Thinking randomly that his hand was very warm, Dreda felt herself being gently pulled up by Marcus. However when she was standing next to him, Marcus did not immediately release her hand, but stood looking down at her with dilated, unfocussed eyes.

"Should we go down close to the lake, Marcus?"

Marcus still did not release her hand as he said again, "If you want."

At that moment, Dreda heard another couple talking as they approached where she and Marcus were standing. She turned to look and saw that the witch was a fifth-year Ravenclaw and the wizard was a Hufflepuff that she didn't know. The couple passed them without saying anything, but the moment was lost. Marcus seemed to have regained his composure and let her hand go when she tugged it away.

Marcus took a step towards the lake and waited for her to join him. However as she moved towards him, Dreda's heel sank into the slightly soft ground so she instinctively reached out a hand and grabbed for Marcus' arm to stabilise herself.

Marcus asked apprehensively, "Are you alright, Dreda?"

Dreda pulled her heel out of the ground and said, "Yes, I'm sorry that I snatched at you like that. I just caught my heel, that's all."

When Marcus responded with a curt nod, Dreda let her hand fall from his arm. However as her hand fell, Marcus caught it in his own and asked tentatively, "Dreda, are we going to do this again?"

Dreda considered the silver clasp on Marcus' cloak for a moment before turning her face up to his. "I think so. I am still not too sure about you really, but we can try. If you want to."

Marcus lifted her hand up to his chest, clutching it in his own. "Of course I want to."

Dreda felt herself blushing hotly and looked down. "Shall we go down to the lake now?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter** **4**

The silence in the bedroom was deafening as Wendelin and Rosamunde stared at their friend.

Rosamunde asked numbly, "You are _what_?"

Dreda repeatedly nervously, "I am going for a walk with Marcus Flint again tonight."

Wendelin looked at Rosamunde. "She _did_ say Flint. And she said 'again'. Is she serious or is this a wind-up?"

Rosamunde opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again.

"I went down to meet him last night and I am going to go again today.

Wendelin looked at Rosamunde pleadingly, saying, "Rosa, tell her. Tell her. She listens to you more."

Rosamunde, utterly gobsmacked, raised her shoulders in defeat.

Wendelin turned to Dreda. "You can't. Etheldreda, really, it is absurd. You can't possibly want to see Flint. He is a complete tosser."

Dreda stood up from the bed and pulled over her shoes to finish dressing. "I do want to, Wen. There is something about him, I don't know what it is exactly, that I sort of like."

Rosamunde yelped, "Sort of like? He is a genuinely horrible person, Dreda. There is nothing good about him. You don't know all the nasty, underhanded things he does on the pitch. He is a cheater and a bully."

Dreda finished putting on her shoe and then picked up her school bag. "I am going with him tonight. You two have the choice of either accepting it or continuing to have a strop on, in which case I shall find somewhere else to sit at breakfast. I don't expect you to like it, but you ought to try to support me, I think."

Wendelin jumped off the edge of her bed. "But Dreda, how can we support you when it doesn't make sense? You always loathed him. How did this happen?"

"I didn't always loathe him; I just never particularly liked him. He did always seem rather loathsome on the Quidditch pitch, I know. But that isn't all of who he is. I want to find out about the rest of him."

Rosamunde groaned as she waved her hands in the air. "Why? There are so many other wizards from whom to select, why Flint?"

"I'm not quite sure. I just did."

Rosamunde asked sharply, "Is he the one who asked you to Hogsmeade?"

Dreda gestured to Wendelin that she was ready to leave for breakfast. "Yes. I wouldn't go because he'd been nasty to you. Not that you didn't bring it on yourself, Rosa. You know you were looking for a fight."

Rosamunde narrowed her eyes. "Well you at least showed some sense then, so what did he do to change your mind? Do you really fancy him, Dreda?"

Dreda felt her cheeks turning hot. "Yes, I do. I know he isn't particularly fanciable, so I don't understand it either."

Wendelin looked at Rosamunde and gestured for her to come. "Please, you have to. I can't manage her alone, Rosa."

Rosamunde shook her head. "You are on your own, Wen."

Dreda looked at Wendelin, "I don't want to have a great row over this during breakfast. If you are coming then I think we have to agree not to discuss this."

Wendelin cast a fuming glance at Rosamunde and agreed, "Fine."

Turning on her heel without checking to see if Wendelin was behind her, Dreda blinked her eyes to keep them from tearing up and pulled open the door to the bedroom.

* * *

"Oy, Flint! What are you doing out here? This is the Ravenclaw dorm, you know. Your lot belongs down in the dungeons."

Marcus glared at Dominic Bradley and sneered, "I don't remember there being any rules against standing outside another dormitory, Bradley."

Bradley, whose face was now bright red, asked roughly, "Who are you waiting for? You looking for Davies? Because he has already gone down."

Marcus coarsely laughed. "If I wanted to talk to Davies, Bradley, I would hardly do it here."

Marcus watched warily as Bradley clenched his jaw and prepared to say something, but both wizards turned to look when the door to the dorms opened and a short, dark-haired witch and a tall, auburn haired wizard exited.

Marcus noted with surprise that the wizard, who Marcus did not remember ever seeing before, seemed to be staring at him with acute dislike. However, Bradley seemed to have completely forgot about him as soon as Wendelin Burke exited the dorm. Bradley was definitely getting seriously involved with Burke, which was a problem. Burke was not only Dreda's cousin but her close friend and therefore one of the persons Marcus had to be most careful round. Unfortunately despite Marcus having once already kept his Slytherin players from beginning a fight with Bradley when Burke was present, Marcus suspected that the Quidditch rivalry was going to cause enormous problems for him with both Bradley and Dawlish.

Bradley said, "Wendelin! I thought you and Dreda had already gone down. I saw Dawlish leave almost twenty minutes ago."

Marcus lounged against the wall, making certain to look as bored as possible, as the couple kissed briefly. The other wizard had not moved from where he stood next to Bradley and Burke, his eyes focussed on Marcus as if he expected Marcus to grow a second head. Clearly there was some problem between the unknown Ravenclaw and himself, but Marcus had no idea what it might be. If Dreda didn't come out soon, it looked like he was not going to be able to stay out of trouble.

Marcus watched as Burke pulled away from Bradley and saw her pale face redden as she suddenly noticed him standing against the wall. Burke made a face as if she smelt something foul and asked, "Are you waiting for Dreda?"

Marcus nodded and noticed with satisfaction that Bradley looked more than a little upset whilst asking, "Why is he waiting for Dreda?" Marcus, however, was watching the other Ravenclaw, and coming to the conclusion that the Ravenclaw's problem had to do with Dreda.

Burke answered Bradley with her eyes on Marcus, "Because she is seeing him. That's why Rosamunde already went down. She and Dreda aren't speaking right now."

Bradley cast an appraising glance over Marcus and shook his head. "Come on, Wen. I think we'd better go down, too, unless we want there to be trouble. Are you coming, Jonathan?"

Marcus fixed an unconcerned expression on his face as he waited for Bradley and Burke to leave whilst he stared down the auburn-haired wizard. Bradley looked meaningfully at the third Ravenclaw and finally Burke grabbed the wizard's arm and pulled him along, saying, "This won't do any good, Jonathan. Come on."

When all three had finally left, Marcus propped himself up against the wall again and began to consider whether this Jonathan was a rival for him. Dreda had never before mentioned a Jonathan, but there was no doubt that the wizard Marcus had just seen had a very great interest in Dreda. Although Marcus had secured a promise from Dreda that she would walk round the lawns later for the third evening in a row, she had not made any declarations about the depth of her interest. She definitely hadn't wanted him to kiss her.

Yet before seeing this Jonathan bloke, Marcus had been feeling somewhat confident after the way she had looked at him when she had come down the stairs to meet him the night before. The look of pleasure in her eyes had made him feel like he had the first time he had ever ridden a broom. But he had been in such a hurry to see her that morning that he had not really considered whether she would want him waiting outside the dorms for her so that everyone would know about their relationship.

As he stood waiting, a steady stream of Ravenclaws exited their dorm and looked at him with expressions ranging from curiosity to disgust. Marcus began to feel even more nervous about what Dreda's reaction would be, since she might be embarrassed by comments from other students in her house. He had almost begun to convince himself that he was going to be dumped on the spot when the door opened and Dreda herself walked out.

Immediately Marcus' heart began beating painfully fast as he saw Dreda toss her shiny blue-black hair to the side in order to adjust her school bag. He waited wordlessly for her to notice him, his palms beginning to sweat as he waited for her reaction.

When Dreda saw him standing in the corridor in front of her, she exclaimed, "Marcus! What are you doing out here? Were you waiting for me?"

Marcus tried to read the look in her almond-shaped brown eyes and said slowly, "Yes. I was going to walk you down." To Marcus' immense relief, Dreda smiled, causing Marcus' stomach to begin turning flips as he stepped closer to her.

"That was sweet, Marcus. You must have been out here a long time, because I'm awfully late."

Marcus shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Did you want me to carry that?"

Dreda looked at the strap of her bag where he had pointed and then back at him. After a pause, she replied, "Thank you, Marcus."

Taking the heavy bag from her and tossing it on the same shoulder as his own school bag, Marcus held out a hand to Dreda and waited a little uncertainly for her to take it. She had never before held his hand in public; in fact she had not really been seen in public with him before other than by other couples who walked the same path about the grounds at night. However, when she flashed him a small smile and slid her fingers onto his palm, Marcus felt a grin stretch across his face.

"Are you ready for tomorrow, Marcus?"

Marcus frowned for a moment and then once realising what she was asking he replied, "We aren't playing. Our Seeker was injured, so we got a postponement. Gryffindor is playing Hufflepuff instead."

Marcus could see Dreda's eyes looking at him intelligently and so was not surprised when she commented, "So you got that extra time to practise your team before you play, then."

Marcus nodded, avoiding Dreda's eyes, as she added, "And you won't be playing in this horrid weather either."

"No."

Marcus heard the note of sarcasm in Dreda's voice as she said, "Isn't that lucky, Marcus?"

Feeling an unaccustomed need to explain himself, Marcus said, "Wood agreed to it. It is legal."

Dreda looked disappointed. "All you needed to make it legal was Professor Snape's approval and you don't have any trouble getting that, Marcus. That means that the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match will be moved up, too, doesn't it? So we'll be playing three matches in a row?"

Marcus, who had actually not considered that Dreda would care about that, said, "Yes, that would be right."

Marcus felt Dreda's grip on his hand loosen as she allowed her fingers to slide from his grasp when they began to descend the stairs.

* * *

"Well it is a smart move on his part, at least. Not only is she a Yaxley, her mother is a Burke. She's related to half of the best families, from the Shipleys to the Malfoys. He can't find a witch who is better connected, really."

"Not the prettiest witch though, is she? If you had to take a sixth-year Ravenclaw, don't know why you'd take that one."

As Marcus ground his teeth together and listened, he heard Montague laugh and then sneer in reply, "No, as I remember you wanted Dawlish, didn't you? Yaxley isn't my taste precisely, but she's a fit enough little witch if you like them small and dark."

"Yeah, with a roman nose and the look as if she wouldn't think twice before cursing you into next Wednesday? I'll pass. So what game is a Yaxley playing by choosing Flint? His family doesn't have a Knut these days and the most he is going to manage is to ride a broom for a league team."

Marcus' head was almost exploding with anger as he rested against the locker door listening. Even his team mates were talking about it. He shouldn't be surprised, since he would probably be wondering the same things that Montague and Warrington were if he were they. Yet Marcus could feel his stomach clench and the blood rush in his ears as he tried to keep himself calm enough not to step outside and pound two of his best players into the ground. It was better if he listened, so he knew exactly what was being said about him.

"Not an effing clue. I've thought about that and I don't see any reasonable motive. Perhaps she just fancies him. It has been known to happen."

Warrington sniggered. "Look, Flint is good on a broom, but no witch is going to fancy him for looks, mate. Her brothers are friendly with him. Perhaps the family is behind it."

Marcus felt a shock of surprise when Montague replied with a sneer, "Well they're not going to choose you for looks either are they? But you've had your share of luck pulling, so I suggest you leave off Flint. If he is happy then it doesn't really matter who his witch is."

Marcus pulled his shirt over his head and stood up from the bench where he had been sitting. As he gathered his bag together he could hear Warrington say, "It matters if he's going to let it ruin his concentration on the team. He's been pretty caught up with his witch lately."

As Marcus snatched his robe and hurriedly put it on, he heard a thud and felt a vibration as something banged against the door to the locker rooms. "I said leave off, Warrington. Flint has never let anything come before his dedication to the team. I suggest you piss off because I'm starting to get tired of you."

"What are you his mummy now? He'd better not let this bint go to his head, Montague, because our Seeker has been playing like utter shite. You know who Gryffindor is playing and I heard that Chang might be fit enough to play soon, so we are going to need to keep it together. I don't intend to lose the cup this year."

As he listened to the locker door get thumped once more as Warrington shouted, Marcus finished fastening his robes more slowly. It seemed Montague was taking care of Warrington for him. Since Julian and Terrence had left school, Marcus had been without any real mates. But for a fifth-year, Montague wasn't a total loss. Marcus would not forget it.

* * *

"Does he have to stand out there every day though? It has been unnerving some of the younger students and it seems like every morning he has words with someone."

Dreda did not look up from her book as she replied, "I understand that you lot don't like him, Wendelin. However he does have feelings and if every person who comes out of the dorm glares at him and some even feel like they ought to make comments, then what is he going to do? He isn't the sort to just take it and say nothing, is he?"

Wendelin looked at Rosamunde, who was sitting in a chair a few feet away and pretending not to listen. "People say things because he's been so awful for all these years. It is his own fault, Dreda."

Dreda raised one eyebrow, but still did not look up as she turned the page of her book. "How would you have him handle it, Wen? Should he stand silently whilst people say things like, "You hoping that if you stand round near Ravenclaw some of it will wear off on you, Flint?" You have to admit that was really unnecessary."

Wendelin looked uncomfortable. "Yes, that was a rotten thing to have said."

Dreda lifted her head. "It was. You don't think he doesn't know people are saying he is stupid, Wen, do you? It was mortifying for him to have to come back."

Wendelin shifted in her chair and glared at Rosamunde's bent head. "Yes, I can see that it would be. But Dreda, he is so rude and unpleasant to everyone that it is impossible to have any sympathy for him."

Dreda looked directly at Wendelin. "You may dislike him all you want, Wen, but I am still going to see him. Therefore he will still be about."

Wendelin looked at her cousin with a puzzled, inquiring expression. "Well, perhaps there is something about him that you know and we don't. What is it that you like about him, Dreda?"

Rosamunde spoke up from her chair by the fire, closing her book. "Maybe she likes having a big bad wizard for a pet because he is certainly following her about like a dog."

Dreda snapped her book shut, as well, and fixed a look on Rosamunde that might have kindled a fire in a snowstorm. "Perhaps we ought to go back to not speaking to each other, Rosa. Because I don't think that you want me to respond to that."

Wendelin, looking alarmed, said warningly, "Rosa, that was too much."

Dreda and Rosamunde had now both stood from their chairs and were looking at each other angrily. Rosamunde tilted her head and said as if she were considering a new idea, "Perhaps Etheldreda is more like her family than we thought, Wen."

Dreda tossed her head and breathed out forcefully, "Oh I am a Yaxley, Rosa dear. If you would like then I can arrange to prove it."

Wendelin had now jumped up from her seat on the settee and put her arm round Dreda's stiff shoulders. Looking squarely at Rosamunde, Wendelin said, "I don't think that there is any excuse for insulting families, Rosa. We Burkes are proud of whom we are and Dreda has no reason to be ashamed of being a Yaxley either. We don't have to like Flint, but I don't think that there is any reason for you to act as if Dreda were personally insulting you by dating him."

Rosamunde looked for a moment as if she had been struck before she lowered her wand and said slowly, "I don't know why I _am_ so upset."

Dreda also lowered her wand, but continued to grip it firmly in her hand as she watched Rosamunde warily.

All of the fight had gone out of Rosamunde, who had now dropped onto the arm of the settee. "That was really out of order, Dreda. I am sorry."

Wendelin relaxed her arm from round Dreda and said quietly, "We ought to support you, Dreda, you are right. I think we are having trouble understanding the attraction. At least, I know that I am worried whether he will hurt you."

Dreda slipped her wand back into her wand pocket and turned her focus to Wendelin. "I am worried about that, too. I do know what Marcus can be. I don't approve of how far he is willing to go to win or how little he worries about who he hurts at times. That is something that he and I will have to sort out if we are going to have any success together."

Wendelin started to speak, but Rosamunde said first, "You see that, do you?"

Dreda answered Rosamunde with a look.

Wendelin added, "I think that we were just so shocked at first, Dreda."

"I was, too. I didn't expect to like him, you know. It just happened somehow."

Rosamunde asked seriously, "How?"

"His mother brought him over for tea. You know that Mrs Flint and Mum were terribly close friends at Hogwarts. Mrs Flint manoeuvred it so that I was to show Eldred's Serbian Beater's bats to Marcus and we would have some time to talk. I didn't think too well of it then, but I couldn't stop thinking about it after."

Rosamunde, who was still looking rather chastened, asked curiously, "What did you talk about?"

"Quidditch mostly and it was a laborious conversation. He was struggling to find something to say, but he clearly wanted to talk."

Wendelin asked, "Do you have better conversations now though?"

Dreda nodded, "That first walk we took was very awkward, but it has got better. We are progressing. There is a good bit of talk of Quidditch, which is usually me because he knows that I am not really a massive Quidditch fan so he won't bring it up."

Rosamunde looked at Wendelin before asking, "Are you sure you aren't trying to please your family or something, Dreda?"

Dreda looked surprised. "My father detests Marcus' father, Rosa. Therefore he doesn't approve of me seeing Marcus at all. Mother has had to intercede to keep him from ordering me to end things. I am sure that if I am still seeing Marcus at the Christmas holiday that Father will make me defend myself to him. I don't think that Mother is really too pleased about it either. I imagine that she is going along with it more for Mrs Flint's sake than mine."

Wendelin nodded. Although Dreda was a much pampered witch, Wulfrida Yaxley was not the sort of mother who indulged her daughter's whims unless it furthered a purpose. It was Hunwald Yaxley who could be persuaded to give his daughter anything that she wanted. "That is true, Rosa. Mother says that Aunt Wulfrida is none too chuffed that things are working out with Flint, since Uncle Hunwald has been making quite a noise over it."

Dreda sat down next to Wendelin. "Yes, he has. Eldred has been particularly unenthusiastic, as well. Marcus didn't say anything about it, but I think that both Will and Eldred have sent threats to him."

Rosamunde said softly, "So you have had everyone against you and yet you still wanted Flint."

Dreda looked uncomfortable as she replied stiffly, "I don't choose to be influenced by everyone else's opinion. I _am_ interested in Marcus, Rosa."

Wendelin exchanged a meaningful look with Rosamunde, who said, "Then we will try to support you, Dreda, if this is what you really want."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter** **5**

Wendelin, who was reading through the comments at the end of a long roll of parchment, asked absently, "So what did Professor Lupin write on your essay, Dreda?"

Dreda shoved a roll of parchment into her bag angrily as she replied, "Nothing good. I am supposed to go see him this afternoon to talk about it."

Wendelin lifted her head in surprise. "Really?"

Dreda did not look very pleased as she adjusted her school bag on her shoulder and rearranged her hair whilst replying, "Yes. Apparently he is concerned at the change in my level of class preparation recently."

Rosamunde seemed to be less shocked than Wendelin as she commented, "This is the second time he has spoken to you already this year, Dreda."

Dreda tossed her head. "The other time was about what he considers an unhealthy focus on real Dark Arts application."

Wendelin nodded. "He talked to me about that, too, Rosa. All because I wanted to know what sanguinary expunction is. Father wouldn't tell me, but Professor Lupin seemed so nice, so I thought he might not mind if I asked. Although I think I picked a bad day to ask, since he was only just back from being ill those few days."

Dreda wrinkled her nose. "Well I could have told you about sanguinary expunction. I read about it over the summer last year in one of Eldred's books. It's rather horrid, actually."

Wendelin said with interest, "Is it? I thought it probably was. Tell me about it later. Are we going to the library? Because I told Dom I would."

Rosamunde answered, "No, I can't. I have to go to another reserve practice. Only two more days until the game and Davies is turning into some sort of madman. Hufflepuff only won against Gryffindor because Potter fell of his bloody broom. We could destroy Hufflepuff even if we flew one player short. I hardly know why I bother with Quidditch sometimes, since the chances are very poor that I'll ever play in a game again. But anyway, one more detention and I am off the reserve team even. Is there really much chance that I can make it to the end of the year without another detention?"

Wendelin and Dreda spoke in unison, "No."

Rosamunde groaned. "Right. So maybe I ought to quit now and spend the time studying. I got an E on this Defence essay. I've never got anything less than an O in Defence."

Wendelin said without much conviction, "You could try to control your temper a little more, Rosa.

Rosamunde replied unenthusiastically, "I know. I always plan to be careful but then something happens and I forget."

As she watched two of Marcus' team-mates push roughly through the crowd ahead of them, Dreda said seriously, "You can change that if you really do want, Rosa. I don't believe that you don't have control of your own behaviour."

Wendelin answered, "Of course she could. She just doesn't."

Rosamunde replied honestly, "You are right, Dreda. I could." Looking sharply over her shoulder, Rosamunde hugged her books to her chest and hurriedly added, "I will meet you two later at dinner. I have to go get into my robes."

As Dreda watched Rosamunde hurry off in the direction of the Ravenclaw dorms, Wendelin called out to the wizard who was trying to catch them up, "Are you coming to the library with us, Jonathan?"

As he crossed the corridor towards where Dreda had stopped to angrily shove a parchment in her bag, Jonathan McDonough narrowly avoided running into Rosamunde. Without even glancing up, Rosamunde said gruffly, "Watch it!" as she raced passed him on her way to change.

Jonathan fell into step beside Dreda and asked Wendelin with concern, "What is wrong with Rosa?"

Wendelin replied dismissively, "Quidditch."

Jonathan nodded knowledgeably. "Ah, right. How did you two do on that essay? Professor Lupin was marking very hard, wasn't he? I saw that even Rosa got an E."

Wendelin frowned, "I did fine, but Rosa is not impressed, no."

Jonathan looked at Dreda, but recognised immediately that she was not going to discuss her marks. "I knew it hadn't gone well when she didn't look over at mine like usual. She needn't have worried, since she still did better than I did."

Dreda made a sound of irritation, "At least none of you have to go talk to Professor Lupin in his office. Can we please discuss something else?"

Jonathan grimaced and asked, "How did you do the fourth problem on the Arithmancy assignment, Dreda? I am still stuck."

Dreda rolled her eyes. "Eugh, I haven't even looked at it. I thought I'd do all that now, but I have to do the Potions essay, too."

Wendelin exclaimed with surprise, "That is due tomorrow!"

Dreda glared at Wendelin, "Which is why I need to finish it first."

Jonathan, who had never known a time when he was further along with his homework than Dreda, exchanged a surprised look with Wendelin. However, only Wendelin dared to ask, "Are you going to have time? Aren't you going out with him again this evening?"

Dreda walked through the door of the library, which Jonathan had hurriedly opened, and marched towards their usual table without responding.

* * *

"Please come in, Miss Yaxley."

Dreda pushed through the door and walked forward to the desk behind which Professor Lupin was seated. As she crossed the floor, Professor Lupin stood up with a gentle smile and gestured to the seat in front of him. Dreda noticed with a little surprise the silver Auxulos tongs that were laid on top of a large book on the corner of the desk. She knew very well the purpose of Auxulos tongs, but would not have expected a teacher at Hogwarts to use them so openly. As she turned her eyes back to him, Dreda was aware that Professor Lupin had noticed where she had been looking.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Professor Lupin nodded. "Please sit down, Miss Yaxley." Professor Lupin picked up the silver tongs by the portion not covered in thin spikes and as he placed them in a long green case said seriously, "We have already discussed _those_ concerns, Miss Yaxley. There can be a very fine line between what is acceptable and what is dangerous in magic. Not everyone will agree, so you will have to learn to make those decisions for yourself. However that is not why I asked you here."

Dreda nodded her head and adjusted herself slightly in her chair as she waited for Professor Lupin to begin discussing her marks in the class.

Professor Lupin sat down in his chair with a sigh. "I understand that your relationship with Mr Flint is very new, Miss Yaxley, but I am surprised that you would allow yourself to lose your focus so quickly. I have very high hopes for what you can achieve in Defence, since you have a good deal of talent and a very strong interest in the subject. I think you know that this is not the way in which to achieve the ultimate career goal that we have discussed. What disappoints me most is seeing your very great potential at risk of being wasted, Miss Yaxley."

Dreda felt her face reddening so deeply that her cheeks began to hurt. Did all of her teachers know that she was falling behind because she had begun seeing Marcus? "I am sorry, sir."

Professor Lupin frowned. "The damage is being done to you, not me, Miss Yaxley. The reason that I asked you to come to see me is because I wanted to be certain that there is no other reason that you have been struggling in your classes. Is there something with which I or one of the other teachers can help you?"

Dreda shook her head, unable to look at Professor Lupin directly.

"Very well then, Miss Yaxley. I am willing to offer you a chance to improve the marks you have received on your last two essays. If you rewrite them both before Monday then I will reconsider your marks."

Dreda, who knew that she had to leave the Professor's office immediately if she wished to keep her control, replied almost inaudibly, "Thank you, sir. I will do so."

Speaking in a very gentle tone, Professor Lupin answered, "Good. I am looking forward to seeing more evidence of the very talented student that I know you are, Miss Yaxley. I will see you in class then."

Looking at him only briefly to say goodbye, Dreda fled from the room with as much dignity as she could manage before she could dodge into a statuary niche in the corridor and cry.

* * *

"Diggory should have known better than to try a Woollongong Shimmy with those brooms his Chasers are riding. Luckily, Davies wasn't able to play that witch he's been grooming for Seeker, else the score would have been even more brutal."

Dreda frowned. "Chang? No, she obviously has skill, even if I think she is a lightweight. Even for a fourth-year. Much more flash than substance."

Marcus drew his head back in surprise at Dreda's unusual criticism of a fellow Ravenclaw. "Really?"

Dreda twitched her hand away from where Marcus had been holding it captive in his lap. "She almost got Rosa kicked off the reserves team earlier this week. I don't like her."

Marcus shrugged. "Did Dawlish deserve it or was Chang merely looking to remove any other females from the team?"

Dreda shook her head. "I'm sure Rosamunde said something, but since Rosa is a Keeper there is no reason for Chang to be so jealous of her."

Marcus sought out Dreda's hand again and was rebuffed. Speaking with a worried frown, Marcus said seriously, "Unless Chang does not like a witch who is smarter and prettier being on the team, Dreda."

Finally allowing Marcus to catch her hand again, Dreda replied sulkily, "That is true. Why can't Rosa sort herself, Marcus? She drives me mad at times. Sometimes I'm afraid that she is too unstable even for working with dragons."

Marcus snorted. "Not bloody likely. Anyway, she's quite talented from what you say, isn't she? They can't have that many witches with skill both on a broom and with a wand, who are applying to the dragon reservation, Dreda."

Dreda budged up closer to Marcus, who looked immensely gratified that Dreda's shoulder was now touching his. "Yes, she should do well. I ought to stop worrying so much about Rosa. I have enough of my own problems."

In a husky voice, Marcus inquired uncertainly, "What problems, Dreda? Is something wrong?"

Dreda turned her face up to gaze at the stars without responding. Marcus waited for several moments and then reached out a hand to lightly touch Dreda's cheek. "What is wrong Dreda? Please tell me." Marcus felt Dreda's reaction as he touched her face and pulled back immediately. Sensing that his uncertain status with Dreda was about to take a turn for the worse, Marcus asked, "Have I done something again?"

Dreda shook her head and as she spoke Marcus could see a tear slowly running down her cheek. "No, it is me. I've been spending almost every night out here with you and now my studies have got to the point that Professor Lupin had to speak to me. I got a Troll, Marcus. A Troll! I've only once before ever got anything less than an Outstanding and now I've had a Troll from Professor Lupin, an Unacceptable from Professor Flitwick, and an Acceptable from Professor Snape! I'm sorry Marcus, but I can't meet you out here any more."

Marcus fairly gaped at Dreda before finally asking in a strange, shaky voice that he did not recognise, "What does that mean then, Dreda? Do you…you want us to break it off?"

Dreda turned her head sharply and said, "No, that wasn't what I meant, Marcus. I only meant that I have to start studying again. I have to pull all of my classes back up to where they ought to be."

Marcus felt his heart lurching and stomach churning as he stared at Dreda. "You mean you are going to spend more time in the library with that ginger-haired friend of yours, don't you?"

Dreda impatiently wiped her face and asked with confusion, "What do you mean? You mean Jonathan? I always study with Jonathan, Marcus."

"I see."

Dreda shoved his arm away from her. "In addition to Norbert, Wen, and Rosa, Marcus. All four of us study together, and sometimes Harold, Euan, and Dom, too. Are you going to get jealous on me, Marcus? Because I haven't any time for that."

Marcus could feel his face forming an even more unpleasant expression, yet as his mind told him urgently to stop talking he still continued to voice his fear. "Or perhaps just not for me."

Dreda gave Marcus an incredulous look. "Do I seriously have to spend every single night out here with you in order for you to think that I am interested in you? If that is what you expect of a girlfriend then perhaps I don't want to be yours anymore, no. I do have other things that I have to do, Marcus, and school is as important to me as Quidditch is to you. It isn't just for my future career that I want good marks. I want them for myself."

"Wait, no, Dreda. I didn't mean that."

Dreda pushed herself up from the ground, saying angrily, "Yes you did, Marcus."

Marcus scrambled up as quickly as he could and laid his hand on Dreda's arm. "I don't know what I meant, Dreda, but I just don't want us to stop spending time together. Why don't we study together instead?"

Dreda narrowed her eyes, but did not shove Marcus' hand away. "I am actually going to _study_, Marcus. I don't mean talking or hiding away in a dark corner of the library together. I have essays to write, books to read, and notes to revise. What are you going to do whilst I'm doing all of that?"

Marcus looked unhappily down at Dreda as he replied, "If I don't pass my NEWTs this time, Dreda, then I had best _never_ go home again. I have to study, too."

Dreda pursed her lips for a moment before she asked, "Are you serious about that, Marcus? If you can really sit in the library and work instead of getting distracted by me then I would be willing to try it."

Marcus placed his left hand on Dreda's back. "I'm very serious, Dreda. I have to study anyway, but I want to spend the time with you. I won't muck it up."

Dreda seemed to consider Marcus for a moment. "I have to go back in. I need to revise for Charms."

Marcus decided that the moment was then or never. "Right. Dreda, you are going to go with me to Hogsmeade next Friday, aren't you?"

Dreda looked up into Marcus' face and replied, "Well, you never asked, but I had assumed that we would, naturally."

Marcus cleared his throat. "I just needed to be sure." Marcus suddenly tightened his grasp on Dreda so that she was pulled closer to him. "You are so beautiful, Dreda."

Marcus could see the disbelief in Dreda's eyes and almost a look of derision cross her face, so he repeated, "You are. You are beautiful." Pulling her up so that he could reach down far enough, Marcus leant in towards Dreda and felt a wave of exhilaration as Dreda got onto the tips of her toes so that she could respond to the kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter** **6**

"Hand me the silver brush beside the blue container, Etheldreda."

Dreda leant forward and picked up the long handled silver powder brush and placed it in her mother's waiting hand. As Wulfrida dipped the end of the sable bristles into a pot filled with light lavender powder, she looked into the mirror at Dreda's reflection.

"You know what it is that I want to discuss, Dreda."

Dreda sighed, "Yes, Mother."

"Very well. Obviously I allowed this relationship to happen, Etheldreda, since Celestina so obviously wanted it. I really do think Celestina could have managed the introduction better, however you seem to have taken to the young man despite such a clumsy beginning."

Dreda nodded and waited for her mother to get to the point of the conversation.

"I don't know what you did to attract Flint's notice, Dreda. I had almost despaired of you after six years and still no young wizards. However Wilfred tells me that young Flint has been interested in you for some time, but that Eldred had, quite properly, warned him off you. Despite my friendship with Celestina, Dreda, I feel that you could have done much better than a young wizard who failed _all_ of his NEWTs."

Dreda's face was flushed as she listened to her mother. It was just like Eldred to have interfered with her life again and to think that it was his business to decide what wizards she was allowed to see. "I thought it was Mrs Flint's idea for Marcus and me to meet."

Wulfrida turned away from the mirror where she had been seriously regarding her profile and said with some asperity, "Honestly, Dreda, do you think that Celestina would dare ask me to intercede with your father considering his opinion of Cassius Flint unless she had been practically hounded by her son into action? I wasn't at all pleased about this, Dreda. But Celestina is my oldest friend and the Flints are at least pure-blood. There is nothing I could have done with your father if that weren't true."

Dreda bit back a reply and waited silently for her mother to continue. It was obvious that her mother had something she wanted to say.

"I had hoped that you would select a wizard more worthy of you and, honestly, of the daughter of a Yaxley and a Burke. That is why I want you to be honest with me, Etheldreda. Do you really like this young man or is he merely a convenient diversion?"

Dreda leant forward in her seat and said earnestly, "I do like him, Mother."

Wulfrida eyed her daughter shrewdly for another moment before sighing. "I don't know why I was hoping you would say differently. From what Wilfred says your letters have begun sounding like your brain is leaking out your ears. If you are going to be serious with Marcus Flint, Dreda, then you have to understand that the family will not tolerate any inappropriate behaviour. You must comport yourself in a way that reflects well on the family."

Dreda gasped. "I haven't done _anything_ that would embarrass the family."

Wulfrida frowned. "I hope not, Etheldreda, yet I am familiar enough with Marcus Flint's type. He is all physical with very little brains. He isn't handsome, which would really be impossible considering Cassius, but he is large and athletic. I am not a fool, Etheldreda, if you are interested in Marcus it is not in his mind. I am merely warning you that you must watch yourself very carefully."

Dreda replied in a very shocked tone, "Mother, I promise you, I haven't even thought of doing anything like that. Marcus wouldn't dare ask it of me either."

Wulfrida smiled grimly. "If you can say that, my dear, then you are considerably more naïve than I was at your age. There isn't a wizard in the world, Etheldreda, who would not do anything in his power to get as far as he can with his witch, especially Cassius Flint's son. Now, your brothers will be home in less than two hours. I think that you had better go see your father before then."

Dreda bit the tip of her thumb as she looked at her mother before asking, "Is Daddy really cross?"

Wulfrida nodded. "Furious, but not at you, of course. Your father never blames you. It would make my life considerably easier if you could appeal to him about your relationship, Etheldreda. He would actually enjoy spiting his brother by allowing you to date young Flint if he were doing it because you went to him. Your Uncle Edmund is arriving with your brothers, so I suggest you go to speak with your father now."

Dreda stood up and said, "I understand. Thank you, Mother."

Wulfrida touched the corner of her eye as she peered in the mirror inspecting for wrinkles. "Yes, very well, go along, Etheldreda. I imagine your father is in his library."

Dreda slipped out of her mother's dressing room and passed through the large, opulent bedroom that her parents shared. As she hurried down the corridor of the first storey to the stairs, Dreda could feel her nerves beginning to tighten. Usually the first thing that she did when she arrived home every holiday was to rush to find her father, who was invariably waiting for her in his library with a special gift. They would then share a box of sweets together without her mother ever knowing. However she had not been allowed to seek out her father this time. Her mother had ordered Dreda to come upstairs with her for a talk first. Dreda had been hoping that her father knew this and had not been wondering why she had not come to see him.

Knocking tentatively on the door to her father's library, Dreda waited until she heard her father's deep voice say, "Come in."

Dreda opened the door and saw that her father was seated in his usual chair with a table in front of him piled with silver tea things. Quickly closing the door behind her, Dreda hurried towards her father explaining, "Have you been waiting for me, Daddy? Mother wanted to talk to me before I came to see you."

Hunwald Yaxley, who had looked up with a stiff expression from a long parchment as his daughter had entered, placed the scroll onto an incidental table, and stood up. "I have been wondering if you were coming to see me."

Avoiding the hissing Runespoor that was coiled on a rug near the door, Dreda ran forward and threw her arms round her father so her cheek was pressed against his rough black beard, saying enthusiastically, "Of course I would come to see you. I came as soon as Mother was finished talking to me, I promise."

Hunwald kissed his daughter's forehead and said, "Very well, little one. Did you miss your father very much?"

Dreda laughed. "I always do, you know that. Especially since you never write me."

Hunwald patted his daughter's head and gestured for her to sit down on the ottoman to his chair. "I never write anyone, my dear. Now then, shall we discuss the grisly bits or the nice bits first?"

Conforming to their ritual, Dreda began to pour out for her father and replied, "The nice bits. Can't the unpleasantness wait for a moment?"

"Hmm. Well then, tell me how you are doing in your classes, little one."

Dreda handed her father his cup and began to pour one for herself. "Fine, now, but I had a miserable beginning. I had to refocus myself."

Hunwald frowned. "Nothing that will cost you a recommendation, I hope."

Dreda shook her head. "No, I talked to my teachers before leaving for the break. I have all Os again, although Professor Flitwick did write one correction on my last essay so it wasn't a perfect score. Professor Snape has said that he will send my initial recommendation during the Christmas holiday. Professor Lupin will send one before Easter, as well."

"Lupin, that is the Defence teacher?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Hunwald still looked somewhat displeased. "You know that there is no guarantee that you will be selected, Dreda. You are obviously the most intelligent candidate, of course, but if there is any idea that you are not dedicated or even slightly unstable then they won't select you. There are no second chances, either."

Dreda's face whitened. "I know. I won't let myself go again, Daddy. I promise."

Hunwald unhappily pulled the point of his beard as he said, "I hope that I won't be disappointed in you, Dreda. I have been proud of your determination and dedication to achieving this goal. As I promised you, I will do what I can to help you, but if you fail to do your part then I am not going to make a fool of myself contacting anyone on your behalf."

Dreda set down her cup so that she could clasp her hands together in her lap tightly. "I know, Daddy. I do want this and I am going to do what it takes. I have been studying even more than ever since I talked to Professor Lupin."

Hunwald nodded. "I am glad. How are your cousin Wendelin and Miss Dawlish?"

Dreda's shoulders relaxed in relief that her father was not more upset with her. "Wen is still dating Dominic Bradley. Rosa is still mad about dragons. She was telling us all about Tibetan dragon breeding on the Hogwarts Express this afternoon. Finally Jonathan, who really is very patient, reached across and took away her book."

Hunwald laughed. "Good man. I like young McDonough."

Dreda nodded. "I do, too, Daddy. But should we talk about Marcus now?"

Speaking in a foreboding voice, Hunwald answered, "Yes. I think it is time."

"I know that you don't like his father, but of course no one really would, Daddy. Marcus isn't his father at all."

"My opinion of his father is neither here nor there, little one. I am concerned that you would choose someone so completely beneath you. Your brothers have been friendly with him since they were playing Shuntbumps on training brooms, but even they are not pleased with this relationship. This young wizard is not worthy of your notice. He could not pass a single NEWT, Dreda. You are one of the most intelligent witches of your year."

"Yes, Daddy, I know that, but I like him. When I am with him everything is different. I can't explain why, Daddy, but I haven't felt anything like this for anyone else before."

Hunwald slammed his tea cup down on the incidental table. "Why? I've seen young Flint. He looks more like an orang-utan than a wizard, Dreda, and apparently wields a wand like one, too."

Dreda said tearfully, "I just do. Please don't ask me to stop seeing him. I won't be happy seeing anyone else. He is a pure-blood and his family have all the right beliefs. Even Wilfred admits that he is an international-standard player and I know that Marcus had an offer from a team, so I'm sure he will again at the end of the year. He is very respectful of me, Daddy. Please."

"I know all about his family. If his antecedents weren't good enough then I would have ordered you to end this when I first heard of it, which I was disappointed wasn't from you but from your uncle."

"I was afraid to write you, because if you'd told me stop seeing Marcus then I would have done so yet I'd have been unhappy. Uncle Edmond is terribly upset about it, isn't he? I know he and Mr Flint hate each other."

Looking somewhat appeased, Dreda's father said, "I am sure you would have done what I asked, Dreda, but you might have had some faith in your father. I am not unreasonable, pet. I want to see you happy and I am thinking of your future. Don't worry about Edmond. I can manage him. But I want you to be quite honest with me. What am I looking forward to here with this relationship of yours?"

Dreda placed her hand over her father's. "I don't know, Daddy. I don't like some of what he is at times. He is very ruthless and not afraid to cheat when it will help him win. I don't like that."

Hunwald placed his other hand over Dreda's. "Ruthlessness is not always a bad quality, Dreda, if it is combined with enough intelligence to make the decisions that are necessary to succeed. Unfortunately most wizards do not think everything through and come to grief. Young Flint has been the most successful Quidditch Captain in Slytherin's recent history, which is an admirable achievement. If he is planning to play for a career then this is an excellent qualification. But are you honestly interested in a wizard who wants no more than to play Quidditch for his life?"

Dreda nodded. "I am interested in Marcus, Daddy, and that is what he wants to do."

Hunwald picked up his cup and handed it to his daughter to be refilled. "That is a subtle difference, pet, but I understand. I will watch how this goes, Dreda, but if I believe that Flint shows any quality that makes him objectionable for you then I won't continue to sanction this."

Dreda handed her father his cup and kissed him on the cheek before sitting back down on the ottoman. "Thank you, Daddy. Seth has been particularly well-behaved today."

Hunwald looked over at the Runespoor, which had now settled on another mat in front of a blazing fire with its two remaining heads facing the flames, and replied, "Yes, he has. He found a Pecoin when I let him follow me up to the attics this morning. I have seldom seen him more satisfied than when he lunches on a Pecoin."

Dreda grimaced. "I had hoped that we were rid of all these Pecoin after Eldred set up those Repellent Charms for corner dwellers during the summer."

Hunwald opened a metal container that was resting beside his tea cup on the table and flicked his wand at the contents. A large, green pickled foot flew through the air and landed on the mat next to the Runespoor. "Pecoins are always going to be attracted to places where Xulopurian magic is used, Dreda."

"Oh is that what you are doing now? I wondered, because I thought I smelt Drogos powder in your bedroom."

Smiling at his daughter, Hunwald replied, "Did you? I will have to be more careful."

"Did the Caecophon Spells not have any affect then?"

Dreda's father laughed. "It wasn't a complete failure, but I have better hopes for Purian foci. Your brothers wouldn't recognise Drogos powder if it was stirred into their dinners. Where on earth did you learn about it, pet?"

"From you, Daddy. Don't you remember when I was so upset when we took Will and Eldred to get their wands at Gregorivitch's right before their first-year at Durmstrang, since I wouldn't have a wand of my own for an entire year more, so you took me along to the apothecary and bought me some ever-sparkle powder?"

Hunwald looked surprised. "Did I? I actually don't remember that."

"Well you did, as well as some blister dust, which you let me sprinkle in Eldred's school robes."

Snorting with laughter, Dreda's father replied, "That I do remember."

Dreda smiled. "You bought Drogos powder, haebistus seeds, several packets of sand needle, and a bottle of yggdrasilsap for Uncle Edmond. Whilst you were testing the sap you asked me to open the Drogos powder to check if it were pure and then test the haebistus seeds for freshness."

No longer amused, Hunwald said, "What a memory you have, Dreda. I wonder if your mother is right. Perhaps I should not have exposed you to some of those things."

"Well Mother won't approve of my career choice when she finds out either, Daddy."

Hunwald sighed. "No, I will have a very rough time with that. I'm afraid that your mother wants a daughter that is more like her, my pet."

Dreda shrugged and said somewhat angrily, "Then she ought not to have married a Yaxley. We none of us are stupid and I don't think any Yaxley witch could spend her time concerned about the crease of her robes when there were books to be read. Why look at Great-Aunt Lysandra."

Hunwald let out a bark of laughter and said with great pleasure, "Excellent, Dreda. Although one hopes you won't be too much like Aunt Lysandra."

"The hairy chin, you mean? Well no, I may not be very pretty, but at least I'm not as ugly as that. But Great-Aunt Lysandra has always sent me the most lovely books full of interesting illustrations and odd spells. There was a very nice curse for causing a person's quill nib to split perfectly down the middle, which I have used dozens of times at school."

"I always favoured an ink blot curse. If you used it right after the Professor had told everyone to hand in the essay there wouldn't be any time to remove it."

Dreda smiled. "Oh, is that where Will got the idea?"

* * *

"What a thoughtful gift, Eldred! You do spoil your mother. Look at what your son gave me, Hunwald."

Hunwald looked up from the large brown parcel that his daughter had just handed him and asked absently, "What is it, Wulfa? It looks like a potion."

"Of course it is a potion, you silly man. It is a Brilliancy Potion. They've only just come on the market from Tunisia."

"A Beautification Potion, Wulfa? Surely you don't need one of those, love." Reading his wife's displeased expression, Hunwald added hastily, "I didn't understand that it was something you had wanted, my love. It was very thoughtful of Eldred, I'm sure." Hunwald set aside the unopened parcel from Dreda and picked up a small red dragon hide box from the table beside him. "Yet you have _never_ needed anything to make you beautiful, Wulfa." Sitting down on the seat next to his wife, Hunwald handed the box to her with a small bow.

Wulfrida looked with a pleased smile up at her husband and opened the lid of the box with a gratified sigh. "Hunwald, really! You didn't go all the way to Florence to get these for me, did you?"

Hunwald looked at his wife from under his eyelids with satisfaction. "They were what you wanted, my love."

Dreda and Wilfred exchanged looks of disgust as their father kissed their mother's hand. Wilfred then looked back to his brother, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide his disappointment at being overshadowed by his father.

Following Wilfred's glance, Dreda pursed her lips and then turned to her father. "Are you going to open my gift, Daddy?"

Hunwald looked up at his daughter, "Eh? Of course, pet. I hadn't forgot. In fact, I have a suspicion what it is and if I'm right then this might just be my favourite present all year."

Seeing that his mother was happily engaged in trying on a pair of matching chalcedony bangles, Wilfred tossed a badly wrapped parcel into his brother's lap to distract Eldred's attention from the table where their mother had set aside the expensive Beautification Potion.

As Eldred eagerly picked up the parcel, which obviously contained a pair of Erumpent hide Beater's gloves, Dreda began to rip into a large purple box that Wilfred had also handed to her.

As Dreda was lifting a ruby coloured cashmere cloak and looking with shining eyes at her brother, Hunwald suddenly commanded in a very pleased voice, "Come here, pet. How did you manage to get this for me?"

Dreda set down the cloak very carefully on her seat and went over to sit on the arm of her father's chair. "Eldred helped me. He got it in Ljubljana this summer, I think."

Hunwald looked over at Eldred, "At Matiyasevitch's?"

Eldred nodded.

"I am very pleased, Dreda. Thank you. You too, Eldred."

Returning her father's smile, Dreda looked over at Eldred. "Do you want your next parcel now?"

Eldred asked curiously, "Another one?"

Dreda laughed merrily, "Yes, another one. The big blue box there."

As Eldred lunged to pick up his present, Hunwald asked his wife, "Do you think we ought to give it to her yet, Wulfa?"

Wulfrida, who had just placed a large chalcedony ring on the same hand as the bangles, replied, "Certainly, Hunwald. Shall I call the elf?"

Dreda clapped her hands and asked excitedly, "Oh, did you get me the Kneazle, Daddy?"

Hunwald frowned, but his daughter could see a sparkle in his black eyes as he asked, "Did you want a Kneazle? I distinctly remember your mother saying that you had asked for a tame Dugbog. What an unfortunate misunderstanding…"

Briefly pretending to pout, Dreda looked at her father, who was smiling dotingly at her. Dreda laughed and said, "Daddy!!"

Wulfrida picked up the silver elf bell from the small ebony table at her side and asked Wilfred with a genuine smile. "Should I open yours next, Wilfred, love?"

Wilfred looked at his brother and said, "Eldred had a second one for you, Mum."

Wulfrida looked over at Eldred with a pleased laugh, "Did you? You naughty boy, you won't have any gold left by the time you go back to school."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter** **7**

As her very young black and white Kneazle that was perched on the floor in front the fire played with the edge of her silky red cashmere cloak worn over an exquisitely embroidered new green robe, Dreda asked drowsily, "Is that a gooseberry flavoured one?"

Wilfred Yaxley picked up a striped green Bertie Botts' from where Dreda had pointed and said with a shrug, "It might be. Did you want it?"

Dreda kicked off one of her beaded silk slippers, sending the young Kneazle scurrying after it with glee, and replied, "Yes, but it might be a cabbage flavour, too. They're stripey, aren't they?"

Eldred lifted his head from the back of the chair where he was lounging, playing with a shiny antique asterothen that had been placed on the table next to him. "No, cabbage is more yellow. It is safe, Dreda."

Dreda took the sweet from her brother's hand and asked, "When did Icarus say they were coming?"

As he stretched his neck from side to side, Eldred answered in a bored drawl, "I think that he, Theseus, and Wendelin will get here in time for lunch and Aunt Althea and Uncle Hubert will bring the little ones later. Uncle Ecbert is coming tomorrow, you know."

Kicking off the other slipper and slumping further down into her chair, Dreda groaned. "Brilliant. I do so love childminding. You lot will be outside on your brooms all weekend and Wen and I will be stuck with all six little ones playing Gobstones."

Wilfred looked at his sister with pity. "She has a point, Eldred. Uncle Ecbert's two youngest especially."

Eldred exchanged a glance with his twin before saying sulkily, "I don't know what you think we could do to help, Will."

"Shuntbumps?"

Eldred frowned. "I hardly think so, not with Thes and Cary here." In response to a piercing glare from his brother, Eldred added hastily, "I didn't mean I wouldn't be willing. But you won't catch Theseus and Icarus playing with children, will you?"

Wilfred shrugged, "Depends. If Wen asked they might. Look, Dreda, you get Wendelin to talk to Thes and Cary and then we'll take the brood off your hands for the afternoon. Tomorrow you're on your own though, since the Bulstrode brothers, Higgs, and your Flint are coming to play."

Eldred fixed a meaningful look on his sister. "And don't think we haven't discussed with Flint that you are quite off limits tomorrow, Dreda, so don't have any thoughts about slipping off."

Dreda shrugged off her cloak and sat up in the seat with an angry snort, which caused the fluffy Kneazle to flick its leonine tail angrily in the direction of Eldred Yaxley. "Oh have you? Really? Let me tell you that I am too tired of your interference in _my_ affairs. I have Daddy's approval, so your interference is quite out of order, Eldred."

Wilfred looked at his brother's furious red face and laughed. "That has told you, Eldred."

Eldred angrily snarled, "Playing innocent, Will?

Wilfred shook his head, "No, but I'm not stupid enough to have told her what we did."

Dreda said in a very cold voice as she wagged her finger at her brother, "I wouldn't want to stop you lot from playing Quidditch, but if Wen and I choose to watch then we shall do just that."

Wilfred tossed his sister a piece of cocoanut toffee and said soothingly, "Of course you will, Dreda. We're going to make ourselves sick on this stuff if we eat much more."

Eldred, who still looked extremely unhappy, responded, "So? We're having turtle soup for lunch, you know."

Both Dreda and Wilfred exclaimed in unison, "Eurghhhh!"

As Wilfred pretended to be sick into the coal bin, Dreda reached for another piece of toffee and laughed whilst her Kneazle began pawing at Eldred's boots. "You had better watch out, Eldred. My little Kneazle is taking a dislike to you."

Sitting back up, Wilfred straightened his robes and commented, "And no wonder. You're wearing brown boots, Eldred. Yet your robe is most definitely black."

Eldred looked down at his feet with dismay, but then glared at Wilfred as his brother began to laugh.

"Eldred, you pillock, you always fall for it. He always falls for it, Dreda."

* * *

Rosamunde scowled as she commented, "He has the worst form. Look at the way he hovers in front of the hoops. Honestly, Wen, I didn't remember your brother being such a rotten Keeper."

Wendelin did not look at Rosamunde as she replied, "That is because he is a Beater. They didn't have another Keeper, Rosa, and if you would get off your bum and push your way into the game then you could play the position far better than Cary."

Dreda, whose eyes had been following Marcus as he tried to knock Theseus Burke from his broom, said, "Do be quiet, Wen. You know what our brothers would say to a witch in the game and that would make the numbers uneven, too." Dreda turned to look at Rosamunde, "Would you rather we went inside? It can't be any fun for you watching them play."

Rosamunde's eyes narrowed as she watched Icarus Burke miss defending another goal. "Yes, because if I have to watch that idiot blunder about on his broom any longer than I shall really lose my temper."

The three witches stood up from the short stone wall where they had been sitting beside the Yaxley practice pitch. Dreda shivered slightly as a wind rushed past them and said, "I wouldn't mind going in from the cold either. Even with a Warming Charm and my new cloak, this wind is too much."

As the three friends began to walk arm in arm towards the house, they could hear a loud shout and then Terrence Higgs yelling, "What are you doing, you plonker?"

The girls turned round and could see Marcus Flint and Terrence Higgs flying menacingly about Sylvester Bulstrode, who was shouting, "If this thick-head hadn't flown right in front of _me_ then he might not have taken a Bludger to the head, would he? Where were you looking, Flint? Too busy eyeing your bint were you?"

As Dreda and Wendelin covered their mouths in dismay, Marcus swung a fist at Sylvester Bulstrode's head and Terrence Higgs yelled, "You bastarding wank!"

Roger Bulstrode and both Burke brothers had quickly reached Sylvester Bulstrode's side and were trying to pull him away from Marcus and Terrence without falling off their own brooms.

"Oy, you filthy clots! What are you trying to do? Come down off your brooms!" Eldred shouted as he flew towards the fight that was quickly turning bloody.

Wilfred, however, had now reached where his cousins were holding back Sylvester Bulstrode and had raised his wand menacingly at Sylvester. "Call my sister a bint, will you? Think you will leave this pitch with all your bits intact?"

Eldred turned his attention from Marcus Flint at whom he had been glaring threateningly and asked in a stunned tone, "_What_ did he say about Dreda?"

Terrence Higgs, who was pounding his fist into his hand as he looked meaningfully at Sylvester Bulstrode, replied, "Called her a bint, he did."

Eldred stared for a moment at Sylvester Bulstrode before saying in a furious voice, "Everyone on the ground. Now."

Dreda, Rosamunde, and Wendelin rushed onto the pitch to where the eight wizards were all landing. As they approached the group of wizards Wendelin called out, "Thes, Cary, please don't fight!"

Rosamunde, however, barged forward and shouted, "How dare you say something about Dreda, you foul, loathsome binhead!"

Wilfred looked with deferential surprise at Rosamunde as she reached his side, but replied seriously, "I think that we have this, Rosamunde."

Sylvester Bulstrode looked round him for support at the other wizards, who were mostly holding their brooms apprehensively and waiting to see what would happen. "I didn't mean anything about Dreda Yaxley. I just meant that Flint was so busy staring at her that he couldn't fly in a straight line. He ran right into the Bludger. I didn't knock it his way; I was sending it at Wilfred, actually."

Wilfred, whose wand was poised at the ready, started to speak, but Marcus snarled first, "I don't think so, Bulstrode. You purposely sent it at my head and you did mean something. You have something to say about my witch?"

Roger Bulstrode stepped in front of Marcus, saying anxiously, "Vester didn't think, Flint. No one here thinks anything wrong about your witch."

Terrence Higgs looked between the furious faces of Wilfred and Marcus and grunted, "Let Sylvester speak for himself, Roger."

Sylvester Bulstrode stuttered, "Look mates, I am sorry. I was out of my head. Will, Eldred, you know I don't have anything against your sister."

Wilfred lowered his wand and looked pointedly at his brother, who tilted his head for a moment and, after seeming to consider something, raised his own wand at Sylvester Bulstrode. Dreda and Wendelin both gasped in horror as Sylvester Bulstrode screamed in pain and fell to his knees. Eldred sneered cruelly to Roger Bulstrode who had leapt forward to help his brother, "Leave him. It isn't permanent."

As the other six young wizards picked up their brooms and turned to go back to the game, Rosamunde glared at Eldred's back and said disgustedly, "What a bastard."

Dreda, who had turned her face away from the moaning wizard clutching himself in pain, was watching Marcus as he walked away from her. But when Marcus got onto his broom, he turned about so that he was facing Dreda and his broom faltered for a moment as he stared at her.

* * *

"Do sit up straight, Wendelin. The way young witches lounge about these days, Wulfa. What happened to manners, I'd like to know?'

Wulfrida, who was looking somewhat cross and glaring at the roaring flames as if they owed her something, replied, "Muggle influence, Althea. They have no sense of pride in their history, the young wizardry these days."

Theseus Burke fidgeted with a small figurine of a beautiful witch holding a bottle of bright red potion that had been placed on the bookcase beside him and asked, "When are the Flints coming, Aunt Wulfrida?"

Wulfrida stood up and pulled her daughter's young Kneazle off a small cushion that it had been trying to destroy. "They are to be here any minute. Hopefully before Etheldreda's pet destroys our drawing room. Take this creature out of here, Eldred."

Icarus Burke put down the book that he had been reading intently and looked at his youngest sister, who was rolling a large, juicy blue Gobstone on the floor near his feet. "If that thing spurts on my robes, Waltrada, then your new Young Alchemist's Potions Supply Kit will disappear faster than you can say "mountain troll"."

Waltrada Burke snatched up her Gobstone and ran tearfully over to her eldest sister, who only said unsympathetically, "You should know better than to bother Cary when he is reading, Trada. Why don't you and Gerda go play over by that cupboard there? There is a lovely mat there, perfect for rolling."

Realising that she was not going to receive any support against her brother from Wendelin or anyone else, Waltrada grabbed Wendelgerda's hand and the two young girls scurried over to the floor by the large black cupboard where they could roll their Gobstones in peace.

Closing the door behind him as he re-entered the room, Eldred tossed a small silver puzzle ball onto Theseus' lap, saying, 'Look at that, will you? I've been at it for an hour."

Theseus leant over to the lamp so that he could look more closely at the puzzle ball. "Hmm, did you try an aggregated Unlocking Charm?"

Eldred nodded, "Of course."

Looking intrigued, Theseus began to rub his fingers over the puzzle ball to look for any indentations, when the flames in the fireplace began to crackle and flicker.

Everyone in the room sat up in their chairs and waited for their guests to exit the flames. As soon as the tall, slender figure of Celestina Flint stepped into the drawing room, everyone except for the two children on the floor stood up.

"Ah, Celestina. It is good to see you."

"Thank you, Wulfa, and Happy Christmas. It is nice to see you again, Althea." After receiving a small greeting from Althea Burke, Celestina turned to the large silver mirror that hung on the wall beside the fireplace and had begun to check her appearance for soot, when Marcus also stepped into the room.

Speaking somewhat stiltedly, Wulfrida said, "Good afternoon, Marcus."

Marcus, whose eyes had immediately sought out Dreda, looked cautiously at Wulfrida and replied stiffly, "Happy Christmas, Mrs Yaxley." Marcus did not miss that the four young wizards in the room, who would normally be on very friendly terms with him, were now looking at him with less than welcoming expressions.

Wulfrida spoke sourly as she lifted one heavily bejewelled hand to pat down her hair, "Yes, well, now that we are all here, Dreda, summon the elf and then go to find your father and uncle."

Marcus watched as Dreda briefly lifted the silver bell for the house elf and then slipped from the room in order to summon her father to tea. He could tell that she was incredibly nervous, which only served to make him that much more uneasy about having tea with Dreda's father.

Marcus could also see that his mother was uncharacteristically agitated, as she asked, "Was your sister able to come, Wulfa, or just your two brothers?"

Althea Burke, who was ruthlessly retying the bow in her fourth daughter's hair, answered for her sister-in-law, "Walburga is in the Argentine. How is Cassius, Celestina?"

"Cassius is well, thank you. Hubert?"

"In excellent health. I was so sorry to hear that your brother has been forced to move to the Isle of Man for his health, Celestina. Why Hubert and I were saying only the other week how interesting it is that so many wizards have discovered that the Manx climate is so beneficial."

Marcus could feel the dislike radiating off his mother as she responded guardedly, "Yes, isn't it? Of course there are some people that have found the Maltese climate to be equally liberating."

It was apparent to Marcus that his mother had scored a point on Althea Burke, whose face had turned almost purple. With a quelling look at Celestina, Wulfrida interjected calmly, "I have always heard that both the Isle of Man and Malta are very pleasant for a short holiday. Ah, here are Hunwald and Hubert."

As the two older wizards entered the room, Marcus could feel the tension in the room almost explode. Dreda was almost completely hidden by her father, who was standing menacingly next to his wife. After kissing his wife's cheek perfunctorily, Hunwald very stiffly took Celestina's hand and raised it to his lips.

Dreda's uncle, Hubert Burke, however greeted his sister's oldest friend almost pleasantly. "Hello Tina. Is this your son? It seems impossible that we should all have children this old, doesn't it?"

As she waited for Hubert to kiss her hand, Celestina glared at her son, who hurriedly stepped forward. "Yes, it does. Bert this is Marcus. Marcus this is Hubert Burke."

Marcus and Hubert nodded to each other and Marcus turned to face Hunwald. Dreda's father was looking at him in a way that made Marcus wonder if his ears were melting from the intensity of Hunwald's dislike.

Celestina began, "Hunwald, you remember…"

Hunwald interrupted abruptly, "Yes, I do. I am glad that we will finally have a chance to talk, Marcus. I have certainly been hearing quite a lot about you recently."

Marcus felt his knees weaken and he struggled to keep enough composure to say feebly, "Yes, sir."

Almost an hour later Marcus had not only lost all ability to speak coherently, he was wondering if he would ever be able to think clearly again. He was seated between Dreda's two cousins whom he had captained in Quidditch for several years at Hogwarts and with whom he had always been on decent terms. However that afternoon both of the Burke brothers had clearly decided to enjoy making Marcus feel uncomfortable. Additionally, Dreda's brothers had been seated across from him, which had meant that Marcus had also been unable to look up from his plate unless he wanted to be on the receiving end of some very nasty looks.

Marcus had eaten only as little as he had to do in order not to be rude, but even still he felt as if he might sick at any moment. Dreda had been placed as far away from him as possible and she had barely looked at him since he had arrived. Marcus had spent the majority of his time over the last week worrying over whether Dreda would yield to her family and decide not to see him any longer. She had not written to him even though he had sent her four owls. Although she had walked through town with him on the Hogsmeade weekend right before the break and even held his hand, she had made it very clear to him that he was still on probation. He had also not got any indication from her when he had come to play Quidditch with her brothers that she was happy to see him. In fact she had left the Quidditch pitch after only watching them play for ten minutes, which had caused him to crash into a Bludger as he had watched her leave. She had not looked very happy with him after the fight either.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus saw Hunwald stand up. Knowing that he only had a few moments before he was going to be closeted with Dreda's father in his library, Marcus looked desperately at Dreda for some indication of what she was thinking. With a feeling of relief, Marcus saw that Dreda was smiling gently at him and, as he tried to ask her silently if everything was ok, she nodded her head and then looked in her father's direction. Marcus sat up straighter in his chair and hoped that she would look back at him again, but felt his heart sink back into his boots as Hunwald said grimly, "Perhaps you would be willing to come speak with me for a few minutes, Marcus."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter** **8**

As her husband stalked into her dressing room and leant against the doorway looking at her, Wulfrida stopped in the middle of pulling off her rings and asked sharply, "Well?"

"I like your hair like you had it today, Wulfa. I know it isn't fair to compare Althea to you, since she never had anything like your beauty, but she always makes me think of something brown and faded whenever you are in the room."

Imperfectly concealing a smile of satisfaction, Wulfrida admonished, "Waldo, I was asking about that young idiot that Celestina spawned."

Hunwald raised his shoulders in a gesture of indifference, "I know what you were asking, my love, by you can't blame a man for admiring a witch like you."

Wulfrida reached up and pulled the pin out of her hair with a smile. "Hmm, I suppose you'll do then, Waldo."

Hunwald pushed himself off the door frame and pulled over an incidental chair on which he plopped down next to his wife. "I hope so, my lovely, because I would hate to have to kill off any rivals to your affections because it would be rather messy and quite inconvenient to explain to the Ministry."

Wulfrida pressed back into her husband's hand, which he had placed firmly on her back and said coyly, "I am sure that you could manage it, Waldo."

Hunwald pulled his wife's head close and kissed her very forcefully before he sat back and commented, "I can always manage everything and everyone else, my love. It is you that continually confounds me."

Wulfrida shrugged herself away from his grasp and said somewhat roughly, "What do you think of the boy, Waldo? Is he going to make a fool of Etheldreda? Will he harm her? Were you able to find anything about him to account for her interest?"

Hunwald shook his head. "No, he is every bit as stupid as I had thought. But his interest has gone far beyond the usual school romance, Wulfa. The boy is hopelessly in love with Dreda."

Wulfrida sniffed. "Anyone could see that, Waldo. The way he kept looking at her during tea was utterly pathetic."

Hunwald nodded. "I saw that, as well. It seems as if Dreda has not made him any too comfortable in the security of their relationship. I was barely able to get any coherent conversation from the young idiot, but from what he did say I don't think Flint would do anything intentionally to harm Dreda. But he is such an incredible thickhead, Wulfa, that I don't know that he will be able to keep her happy even if he bent all his energy towards it."

"You didn't give him permission to continue this, did you?"

Hunwald frowned. "I thought that you were in favour of it, Wulfa. You have been pressing me about this for months now."

"I promised Tina that I would, but now that I have talked with Wilfred some about this son of hers then I'm not so sure anymore."

Hunwald shook his head. "I've told young Flint that he may go ahead, but that I am going to keep an eye on everything that he does from hereafter. I don't give a damn what Celestina Flint or Wilfred or even my brother say about it, Wulfa. My only concern here is that my daughter is happy. Dreda asked me to allow it, so until I have a definite reason not to then I will."

Wulfrida sighed and asked a little hesitantly, "You do think that she is…happy?"

"She will be very unhappy if we keep her from him, Wulfa."

Wulfrida looked as if she were unused to the idea that she was voicing as she said haltingly, "I don't really understand her, Waldo. She never wants what I try to give her."

Hunwald picked up his wife's hand and kissed the palm lightly. "She is a Yaxley, love. Trust me to take care of this. I won't allow this young pillock near her if he does something wrong."

* * *

"Rosa, you don't understand. Uncle Hunwald had Marcus in there with him _for over a half hour_. When Marcus walked out I thought he was going to be sick all over the rug. But Dreda wouldn't talk about it with me afterwards. She told me that she never even wrote him during the holiday. Her father only let Marcus come to see her alone one time and only then to take a walk round the Yaxley property." 

Rosamunde grimaced. "Flint is too blatantly mad for Dreda, Wen. That's been obvious to me since that time I called him a foul, ugly snake and he didn't even say anything. He just walked away."

Wendelin sighed. "But I can't tell how she feels. I keep hoping that she won't truly fall for him, but any witch that can kiss _that_ and tell me without any trace of irony that she finds Marcus quite fanciable must be either mad or care very deeply about him."

Rosamunde shuddered. "The teeth, Wen."

Wendelin nodded. "Exactly. Or those huge paws instead of hands."

Rosamunde sniggered. "He is like a great hairy beast that someone trained to ride a broom."

Wendelin's face became more serious as she said, "But he is as loyal as a Crup."

Rosamunde shrugged. "If I had ever bothered to consider Flint before he began pursuing Dreda, then I would have thought that he would be the controlling, jealous sort."

Wendelin asked, "What makes you think he isn't? If he ever became more secure of her, don't you think that he might try to control her? And I am very sure that he is an extremely jealous boyfriend, Rosa, because I saw the way that he looked at Jonathan today at breakfast."

Rosamunde's head snapped up. "Really?"

"Oh yes. Remember Dreda dropped her schoolbag on the floor and Jonathan bent down to help her collect everything?"

Rosamunde's answer was slightly distant, "Yes."

"Well I happened to look up then and the way that Marcus was staring unblinkingly at Jonathan and muttering something under his breath I was afraid that Marcus was performing a jinx on him. But Jonathan was fine afterwards, so I suppose Marcus was just saying something rude."

"I wouldn't put it past Flint to jinx all of us if he could get away with it. But he isn't so stupid that he hasn't sussed that Dreda will blame him for anything odd that happens to us."

Wendelin looked over at Dreda's bed, which was empty, and then asked seriously, "Rosa, did you hear any of what Dreda was saying to Professor Lupin this afternoon?"

Rosamunde frowned. "No. I think that one of them cast some sort of Privacy Spell. She has been terribly secretive about some things since the summer and not just Flint."

Wendelin seemed to consider Dreda's trunk before replying, "It started shortly after we got the OWL results. Have you noticed that since last year she has refused to say anything about her career aspirations?"

Rosamunde answered seriously, "Yes. She has said that she doesn't want to do pointless research and she seems to have left off the fascination with Ndutu magic, but she won't say anything more than that the sort of things she likes are very obscure."

Wendelin continued, "Yes, but I am quite sure that she knows exactly what she wants to do. She has made a decision, Rosa, and has decided not to tell us. What sort of career has she decided on about which she is afraid to tell us?"

Rosamunde looked confused. "I hadn't thought of it quite that way, Wen. But that makes one think that she has decided on something very illegal, possibly dangerous, like what her uncle does."

Wendelin shrugged. "No, Dreda has never been such a pure-blood fanatic as all that."

"What do you mean?"

Wendelin answered sharply, "Edmond Yaxley was a Death Eater, Rosamunde. They never proved it, but my father believes that he was and I think that he is right because for the past 20 years Edmond Yaxley has been researching poisons to find one that is harmful only to Muggles. And if you mention that to your uncle the Auror then I shall personally hex off your nose, Rosa."

Clearly disturbed, Rosamunde answered hastily, "I would never betray Dreda's family, Wen. What do you think Dreda is going to do then? She isn't nearly as fascinated with the Dark Arts as you are, but if she were she would have told you anyway."

Wendelin narrowed her eyes and watched Rosamunde for a moment before replying, "She can't have decided on something particularly Dark, since she was lecturing me just last Tuesday because she found out that I had placed a Blood Protection Curse over my youngest sister last summer."

Rosamunde pulled a disgusted face. "Why would you do that? You probably terrified poor Trada more than anything."

"Mum and Dad were taking Trada and Gerda along with them to Libya – when I was staying with Dreda and Frida went to stay with her friend Hestia. Frida and I decided that we ought to do something to protect the girls, so she placed a Sorority Charm over Gerda and I put a Protection Curse on Trada. It wasn't anything to make a fuss over, Rosa."

Rosamunde whacked her hand on the bed as she replied angrily, "But it is, Wendelin. The level of magic that is required for those spells is enormous. If you had done it wrong then you could have been harmed and at the very least frightened poor Trada out of her mind. And the cost to yourself is pretty great, as well."

Wendelin waved her hand dismissively. "I am perfectly competent at this spell, Rosa. Besides, Uncle Hunwald places the Protection Curse over Dreda every time she returns to school."

Rosamunde growled. "He is a very accomplished warlock, Wendelin, and if he wishes to make such a sacrifice to protect his daughter then it is his choice to do so. However there are dozens of useful Protection Spells that are safe magic, Wen."

Wendelin glared at her friend. "But none that are as effective. She is my sister, Rosa, and I intend to see that she is safe. I used my own blood. It isn't like I took someone else's."

Looking completely horrified, Rosamunde said brusquely, "I don't want to talk about this, Wendelin. I think that you are starting to lose your focus on what is reasonable, but I am not up to discussing this right now. I think that I am going to go down to the common-room for a while, actually."

Wendelin rolled her eyes. "Alright. Maybe I'll go search out Dom anyway."

* * *

"Did Professor Lupin actually say that werewolves were immune to any of the Skylos Potions?"

Jonathan lifted his eyes from his revision notes and said seriously, "Yes, I wrote it right here, Dreda."

"But I've read almost everything in Hogwarts' library on half-human Dark creatures and I never saw that."

Jonathan gestured impatiently. "Well there are certainly other books that he could have read, Dreda. I doubt he is likely to make it up, since it is a rather pointless fact really."

Dreda huffed. "Well I didn't mean that he would. I am just surprised, that is all. Honestly, the one lecture I miss. So what else did he say then?"

Jonathan flipped through the pages of his notes for several moments and then answered, "He gave us two Protection Spells, but warned us that they are of little use when the werewolf is fully transformed…he explained that werewolves can sense others by smell…erm, let me see…oh yes, he seemed to feel _very _strongly on this point - werewolves are not naturally Dark wizards or dangerous when they are not transformed, but that werewolves like normal wizards or witches make the decision to go Dark or use normal magic."

Dreda shrugged. "Well I think he is being somewhat idealistic about that. Anyone who has been touched by such a deep curse as lycanthropy can't be anything but Dark. But if that is what he wants in our essay then I shall write it. Did he mention anything more about the bean sídhe or the dökkálfar? He really barely covered those last week."

"No, we have moved on solely to half-human creatures. We are discussing the Manananggal, Civatateo, Pontianak, and other non-vampiric blood-feeders next lecture."

"Right, thanks Jonathan. I just want to be prepared before I go to meet with him tonight."

"Are you still seeing him every week, Dreda? Surely you are more than caught up from those few weeks in November."

Dreda nodded, "We are working on some special subjects, Jonathan. Professor Lupin has offered to prepare me for my examination."

Jonathan frowned. "You could pass all of your NEWTs today without any help, Dreda, and Professor Lupin must know that."

Dreda replied evasively, "Professor Lupin understands that I need his help, Jonathan. Did you finish the essay on the proper way to prepare dried Wodensbane for Professor Snape? I thought it a very strange essay to set us, didn't you?"

Jonathan smirked, "Yes, but easy."

Dreda nodded. "True, but last week he gave us an essay on Therianthropy Potions and then one on a Berserker Draught."

Searching through his school bag for another quill, Jonathan responded, "Yes, I did notice that everything does seem to be about half-humans and potions that affect them lately. But I don't see why the curriculum couldn't be coordinated, Dreda. It would be more effective that way, wouldn't it?"

"It has never been coordinated before."

"We've never had a decent Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher before, Dreda."

Dreda seemed to consider this point. "Yes, that is true. You are probably right. He really does know his subject, Jonathan. He and I are working on magical subcultures right now and you wouldn't believe how knowledgeable he is. I do hope he doesn't leave after the year like every other Defence teacher has."

Jonathan asked with surprise, "Why would you need to be learning about magical subcultures, Dreda?"

"I need to study everything that I can before I take the exam, Jonathan."

"You haven't been studying for the Defence NEWT with Professor Lupin, have you? You've been working on something else?"

Dreda nodded her head. "This examination is far more important than the NEWTs and I have just over a year to prepare."

Jonathan sighed. "You aren't going to become a Healer or an Auror are you? Those are the only professions that I know have an examination to enter."

Dreda laughed. "Oh there are several others. Jurisconsultants have a very nasty examination before they can study at the bar."

Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "You are not going to be a Jurisconsultant, are you?"

Laughing again, Dreda leant forward. "No, but you ought. It would be the perfect career for you."

Jonathan shook his head. "I have thought about it, but I can't afford the three years of study. I need to begin work right after Hogwarts."

Dreda replied seriously, "If you really mean that, Jonathan, then you ought to have told me before. Have you forgot that my mother's favourite cousin is Altair Shipley? He presented his son Aldebaran to the bar for entrance last year, so he might be very willing to take on a new student."

Jonathan looked curiously at Dreda. "Is there any powerful family to which you aren't related, Dreda?"

Dreda made an irritated noise. "You are a pure-blood, Jonathan. You know how it is."

Jonathan shook his head. "Nominally, yes, but not like you are. Two of my grandparents are technically half-bloods with parents who were Muggleborns."

Dreda shrugged. "Well that doesn't really matter these days, does it? Everyone has mixed blood somewhere in the family. I think I have a half-blood cousin somewhere. Anyway, do you want me to write to Uncle Altair and ask if he is taking on another student?"

"I hardly think that one of the Wizengamot Interrogators is going to take me on, Dreda."

With a toss of her head, Dreda responded, "Well you don't know if you don't ask, do you? You really can be a little spineless at times, Jonathan."

Jonathan closed his book with a loud bang. "Is that really what you think of me, Dreda?"

Dreda's expression changed slightly as she looked at Jonathan. "I think you are too afraid to go after what you want sometimes, yes."

Shoving his book angrily into his bag and gathering together his parchments, Jonathan said, "There hardly seems much point sometimes, Dreda. Some things are just out of my reach."

Looking with concern at her friend and well aware of what he meant, Dreda replied softly, "I'm sorry, Jonathan."

Jonathan did not reply as he jostled his bag in order to make all his books fit inside. After he had slung the strap over his shoulder he finally muttered, "Flint has been standing over there watching us for the last five minutes, you know. I'll see you at dinner."

Dreda did not turn round, but slowly gathered her own books. As she began tightly scrolling one large piece of parchment, Dreda could feel that Marcus was standing behind her. "I don't have time for it, Marcus. We were just studying."

Dreda heard Marcus pull out a chair next to her and sit down. She bent over to get her school bag, but was stopped by a hand on her arm.

"Dreda, won't you even look at me?"

Dreda turned her head and saw the unease in Marcus' face. "Yes?"

"I wasn't going to do anything, Dreda."

Dreda sighed. "I could feel what you were thinking, Marcus. We've been over it all before."

Marcus spoke earnestly, "I know. I swear, I wasn't going to say anything, Dreda."

Looking very weary, Dreda replied, "Alright. I have to go to see Professor Flitwick for my Charms revisions."

Marcus asked seriously, "May I at least walk you there? I have hardly seen you all week. I never even had a chance to tell you that I got an O on that essay for Lupin."

Dreda's expression cleared immediately and she exclaimed, "That's wonderful, Marcus. I knew that you could do it."

Picking up Dreda's schoolbag, Marcus replied, "It has been because of your help, Dreda. I could _never_ have got an O on my own."

"You wrote your own essay, Marcus. I only helped you find the resources. It was all your own work."

"You checked it for me, too."

Dreda slipped her hand in Marcus' as they walked out of the library. "Only cross checking. You had done all the work already. How did you do on the Astronomy chart?"

Marcus smiled slightly. "I got an Acceptable, but Professor Flitwick has raised me to an E on my class work."

Dreda pulled on Marcus' arm so that he would stop walking and then jumped up to give him a kiss on his cheek. "See? All the practising is paying off, Marcus.

Obviously elated, Marcus asked hoarsely, "Will we have more time to study this week?"

"It hasn't been me who was too busy, Marcus. You were the one with the additional Quidditch practices."

Marcus shook his head. "You had your extra lessons in Transfiguration, Defence, and Charms and that project you are doing for Arithmancy and the extra essay for Potions. You have been just as busy, Dreda."

Dreda admitted, "You are right. I've missed being with you, Marcus."

Marcus' fingers tightened round Dreda's hand as he asked, "Have you? You don't know how much I've missed you. Other than when I am able to walk you to breakfast I haven't really seen you since after the Slytherin-Ravenclaw game."

Dreda stopped next to Marcus and said thoughtfully, "I know. I think I have been too caught up with my lessons. Ever since that scare back in autumn I have been afraid to take any time away from studying."

Marcus placed his hand on Dreda's back and pulled her so that she was very close to him and asked, "Are you really so afraid of not passing your NEWTs? I can promise you that you will, Dreda."

Before Dreda could answer, a deep, sarcastic voice spoke almost in her ear, "Mr Flint, Miss Yaxley you will refrain from such inappropriate public displays. You might consider your witch's reputation, Mr Flint."

With flushed cheeks, Dreda turned to look with embarrassment at her teacher as Marcus hastily apologised, "You are right, Professor Snape, I'm sorry."

Turning on his heel without a response, Severus Snape stalked away down the corridor. Dreda looked up at Marcus, who was watching Professor Snape very carefully. As soon as the Professor had turned a corner, Marcus leant in quickly and gave Dreda a long kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter** **9**

"Professor Lupin?"

Lifting his head from the book that he had been reading as he waited for Dreda to complete the page of questions that he had set her, Remus Lupin replied quietly, "Yes, Miss Yaxley?"

"I wanted to ask you something, if you don't mind. It is an ethics question, I suppose."

Looking somewhat startled, Remus Lupin answered, "I am afraid that I am hardly an ethicist, but I will try to help you. What is the question, Miss Yaxley?"

"You see, sir, I…that is I think that I know someone who is hiding a condition that can be very dangerous. I believe that this person seems to be very responsible so perhaps there is no reason for me to worry, but I don't know whether the right people know about it. The people who ought to know, I mean. And I don't really know how to ask this person about his condition, but I don't want to cause any trouble for him either."

Lupin's face had turned almost completely white and his hands seemed to be clutching the edges of his book like a raft for a drowning man. "You are afraid that this person will hurt someone, Miss Yaxley?"

Dreda shook her head. "I have to assume that he is taking the Wolfsbane Potion, sir, since he is only incapacitated for a day after the full moon."

Lupin dropped the book on his desk and replied unsteadily, "Very clever, Miss Yaxley. Yes, the Wolfsbane Potion does make the changes considerably easier for the werewolf. There is less physical damage."

Dreda clutched her hands in her lap as she asked, "But how do I find out whether the people that ought to know are actually aware of this person's condition, sir?"

Lupin replied with a grim smile, "Miss Yaxley, Headmaster Dumbledore has known of my condition since I first came to Hogwarts as a young boy."

Dreda's body relaxed. "Oh. I'm so glad to know that, Professor. Somehow I really felt that you wouldn't lie to Headmaster Dumbledore, sir."

Lupin was still regarding Dreda with intense scrutiny. "You are a very clever witch, Miss Yaxley, and particularly brave to confront a suspected werewolf alone."

Dreda reddened. "I suppose that I should not have said anything, sir."

Lupin shook his head slowly. "No, Miss Yaxley, I would have thought less of you if you hadn't. I am curious however why you came to me and not to your head of house."

Dreda bit her lip nervously as she answered, "Because it seemed to me that this was your business, sir, and not his." When Lupin did not answer, but continued to regard her contemplatively, Dreda added nervously, "You have helped me, sir. You did not have to work with me for the Entrance Examination for Special Recruits, but you have been very generous with your time. I promise that I will not speak of this to anyone else."

Lupin nodded. "I am afraid that I shall have to ask you to keep silent, yes. I will not force you to do so; however I would like to be able to tell the Headmaster that you are trustworthy."

Dreda replied seriously, "You can trust me to stay silent. As soon as I sussed the truth I began diverting my friends' thoughts. They do not know."

Lupin sighed. "I appreciate your efforts, Miss Yaxley."

Dreda waited for a moment and then said timidly, "It was what you said about Skylos Potions, that was what gave me the idea. I hadn't read that anywhere and I've read dozens of books on Dark creatures."

An arrested look on his face, Lupin replied slowly, "That information is available in literature, Miss Yaxley, although it is obscure. However, it is common knowledge amongst lycanthropes that have lived in community."

Dreda swallowed uncomfortably before saying, "I see."

Lupin continued in a voice even hoarser than usual, "I am grateful to you for pointing out the error, Miss Yaxley. I assume that you worked out the dates that I had missed and compared them to a lunar chart?"

Dreda nodded. "But you spent an entire day on werewolves giving us quite a lot of interesting, unusual information, whereas you only spent as much as twenty minutes on most other half-human creatures."

Lupin smiled dourly, "It is a subject on which I have slightly more knowledge, Miss Yaxley, than, say, the Huldra. However, I am impressed with your memory and perception. Obviously I was not mistaken in the assessment that I sent to the Recruitment Panel."

Dreda slid the parchment on which she had been working across to Lupin and said uneasily, "Perhaps I ought to go, sir."

Lupin responded gloomily, "I understand, Miss Yaxley."

"Sir, you will still allow me to come on Wednesdays, won't you? I really have been learning more between your classes and these lessons than in all the other years of Defence combined."

Lupin looked with mild astonishment at Dreda and stood up. "Of course you may still come, Miss Yaxley. It is very rare that a teacher has a student so eager to learn one's own subject."

Dreda was now clutching her school bag as she said, "Thank you, sir. I had better get back to the dormitory. I really shan't say anything to anyone."

* * *

As she hurried down the stairs towards her two friends, gripping her Quidditch gloves in one hand, Rosamunde asked breathlessly, "So what was it that Headmaster Dumbledore wanted to speak to you about, Dreda?"

Dreda answered lightly, "Oh, nothing important. He just wanted to find out the truth about something."

Rosamunde looked curiously at Wendelin, who shook her head. "No, she won't tell me either."

Rosamunde threw her hands up in defeat. "You are too secretive these days, Dreda. Would you believe that Davies is still going to play Phillips? He can hardly see out of one eye, but apparently he is loads better at defending the hoops than I am."

Wendelin replied discouragingly, "Phillips has a slight cut over his left eye, Rosa."

Rosamunde groaned dramatically, "Why do I even bother? Davies is never going to play me."

Very familiar with Rosamunde's routine, Dreda replied, "Then quit. You say this before every single game, Rosa. Quit or just accept that you like playing Quidditch, so you actually enjoy the reserve practices."

Wendelin asked, "Is the team ready? Has Chang got whatever it takes to beat Potter, you think?"

Rosamunde shrugged. "I don't know. She has had so many injuries – she keeps being pulled right before each match, but Davies seems to think that she is fit this time."

Tying her long Ravenclaw scarf very tightly round her neck, Dreda said seriously, "You had better hurry down to the Reserves bench, Rosa. They'll have already gone in."

Rosamunde yelped. "Is it that late? I'll be for it with Davies. I can't believe I forgot my stupid gloves. I'll see you after."

Watching Rosamunde race off towards the Quidditch pitch, Wendelin and Dreda sighed in unison.

"She really is mental, that one."

Hearing his comment, Wendelin turned to face Jonathan, who had just come down the stairs behind them. "I thought you were going to save us seats!"

With his eyes on Dreda, Jonathan answered Wendelin gravely, "I asked Barbary to do it. It was so cold that I came back for Pocket Warmers for you and Dreda."

Wendelin smiled sweetly, "Thank you, Jonathan. That was thoughtful."

Dreda asked uncertainly, "Is it that cold? Do you think I'll be able to sit through the game? Perhaps I ought to go back for a second cloak."

Jonathan shook his head. "I think you'll be alright. I'm pretty good with a Warming Charm, and so is Barbary, and these will help."

Dreda took the small round disks that Jonathan was handing her and asked, "Is there a charm to activate these things?"

Jonathan nodded. "I'll activate them for you."

Wendelin held onto the pair of Pocket Warmers that Jonathan handed to her and said, "You know, Dreda, I am surprised Marcus didn't ask you to sit with him."

Dreda shoved the extremely warm disks that Jonathan had just handed back to her into her pockets and replied tersely, "We had a row this morning. I _don't_ want to talk about it."

Jonathan dropped the scarf he had just been trying to wind round his neck. As she bent to pick it up for him, Wendelin said, "Oh, so does that mean you aren't going to be meeting him after the game any longer?"

Dreda responded carelessly, "Oh, no, I am still meeting him, Wen. You are right, Jonathan. The wind is just brutal."

Wendelin nodded her head. "Dom said that he was going to put on an extra under-robe for the game."

By the time that they reached the stairs up to the Ravenclaw benches, Dreda and Wendelin were so cold that they had stopped talking. As they sat down in between Harold Barbary and Norbert Eddison, Dreda scanned the stands opposite them, looking for Marcus. However, an hour later she had still not seen Marcus, either of the seventh-years with whom he usually sat, or most of his Quidditch team.

As she returned her attention back to the game, however, Dreda heard Wendelin gasp.

"Dementors on the field!"

Dreda sat forward in her seat and looked down where Wendelin had been pointing. It was true. She could see several figures in long, dark cloaks crossing the field. Nothing in the world scared her worse than a Dementor. But Professor Lupin had assured her that Headmaster Dumbledore would be able to keep the Dementors away from the students after the last incident.

Dreda began to feel a wave of panic building, wondering whether the rest of the Dementors were going to swarm the field like they had during the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game. Dreda could not bear to go through that again - the awful memories and horrible emptiness.

Looking past Jonathan towards the stairs, Dreda moaned, "I have to go. I have to go."

As Euan MacDiarmid and his redheaded Hufflepuff girlfriend stepped out of their way with concern, Wendelin placed her arm about Dreda and began to lead her to the stairs, when someone called out, "What is Potter doing?"

Dreda looked back and saw that Harry Potter had conjured a Patronus, which was charging forward towards the Dementors below. Dreda turned away and closed her eyes. If Harry Potter could defend himself against Dementors, surely Etheldreda Yaxley could. Feeling her panic begin to subside, Dreda asked Wendelin, "Are they going?"

But Wendelin answered in a strangled voice, "Dreda, darling. You have to look. It wasn't Dementors."

* * *

Jonathan sat down on the large red chair next to the fire and asked gently, "Dreda, why won't you come to Hogsmeade with all of us? We are all going together: Wendelin, Dom, Harold, Rosamunde, and I. Won't you be unhappier if you stay here alone?"

Dreda pushed away the book that she had been reading. "I can't, Jonathan, really. I know that it has been a week and I've been difficult to be round, but I am just not ready to go out with everyone."

Jonathan exhaled softly. "I understand, Dreda. We all do and no one blames you. Break-ups are always difficult."

Dreda looked away from Jonathan into the flames. "Yes. This one was, especially. At least he isn't waiting outside before every meal to try to talk to me now or sending me owls or gifts and notes via titchy first-years picked at random any longer. He did finally respect my request for him to leave me alone."

Jonathan looked as if he wanted to comment, but he had already decided that now was not the time to tell Dreda that Marcus had not made this decision entirely on his own. "I understand, Dreda. I suppose that I had better leave if I am going to make it out to the coaches in time. Are you sure that we can't bring you anything from Honeyduke's?"

Dreda barely raised her shoulders in a semblance of a shrug.

"I'll see you later this afternoon then."

Dreda listlessly replied, "Alright."

Jonathan turned on his heel and exited the Ravenclaw dorms to where a group of four Ravenclaws was waiting for him. He shook his head and said, "She is still sitting by the fire with that book. It is still on page 467."

Rosamunde's eyes glittered dangerously as she growled, "I know we've discussed this a hundred times before, but I still can't believe that Flint was that stupid. I always knew he was thick, but to do something as publicly idiotic as masquerade in a Dementor's cloak and think that Dreda would tolerate it, though."

Wendelin added, "Especially since she is so very afraid of Dementors. He knew it too, because when they went on their walks she wouldn't go within forty feet of the boundaries set for students out of fear that the Dementors might step over their limits."

Harold Barbary shrugged. "Well it didn't seem to me that he was having a very easy time of it already, you know? He had to work like a house-elf to get anything from her, didn't he?"

Wendelin asked dangerously, "What does that mean, Harold?"

Harold seemed unfazed by Wendelin's tone. "It means that the relationship was already doomed. It didn't seem as if Dreda had even half the interest that Flint did."

Jonathan gestured impatiently, "We are going to miss the coaches if we don't hurry."

Ignoring Dom Bradley's outstretched hand, Wendelin slipped her arm through Rosamunde's in order to drag her down the stairs. "Jonathan is right, Rosa. Come on."

As Rosamunde followed behind Jonathan and skirted round Dom, she said over her shoulder, "You don't know what you are talking about Harold. If you had heard how Dreda has cried into her pillow every night since she broke it off with Flint then you wouldn't think she wasn't interested."

Wendelin pinched Rosamunde and said under her breath, "Rosa, please."

Dom caught up to Wendelin and commented quietly, "I wonder if Dreda would appreciate all of us discussing this?"

Rosamunde grimaced. "No, she would be furious. Don't let me forget that I was going to purchase her some cocoanut toffee, right?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter** **10**

Wendelin said teasingly, "Only one more left and it has the prettiest wrapping, don't you think? Hurry up and open it, Dreda. What do you think it is?"

Dreda's hand hovered over the last of the unopened parcels on her bed and replied with a pleased look, "I don't know. I'm not even sure who it is from. It seems like I've already opened a present from everyone I know."

Rosamunde commented loudly, "That might actually be true. Let's see, she's already opened two from her father and then one from both her mother and father and then the big one that Eldred and Will sent. And then I think there was the one from the scary Yaxley uncle and then one from your parents, Wen, and then the other Burke uncle, and…."

Dreda interrupted Rosa by tossing a small book at her with a laugh. "It is my birthday, Rosa. One does get more special presents when one comes of age, doesn't one?"

Rosamunde threw the book back at Dreda. "Well, yes, but I just got that necklace and my great-aunt's Even-humour ring."

Wendelin sniggered, "Which you wear to such advantage, Rosa."

Dreda laughed again as she tore through the light pink paisley paper that was wrapped round a pale blue box. "There is probably a reason that your family gave you the ring, Rosa."

Rosamunde huffed. "Yes, I'm the youngest witch of my generation so there was nothing else left to give me. Nothing would convince me to wear such a great ugly thing."

Dreda had stopped smiling and was staring down into the box in her lap.

"What is it, Dreda? Who sent it?"

Dreda almost crushed the lid as she closed it and answered through clenched teeth. "Do guess."

Frowning, Rosamunde said softly, "Dreda, I don't think he is going to stop trying."

"Yes he will. I will go talk to him and _make_ him leave me alone."

Wendelin looked at Rosamunde, who nodded her head, and then asked, "Dreda, do you care for Marcus?"

Dreda shoved the blue box across the bed from her, away from the pile of presents from her family and friends. "Yes, but that must be blatant, mustn't it? Since I can't seem to move on at all."

"Well, yes, it has been almost four weeks."

"Exactly four weeks, actually."

Wendelin got up from her own bed and moved over to the edge of Dreda's, pushing aside the pile of gifts so that she could sit down. "Right, but there are still nights where I can hear you crying, you haven't eaten decently in a month, and you still turn white whenever you see him."

Dreda looked somewhat angry. "I don't cry over him anymore. That was only right at the beginning. In any case he was my first boyfriend. It ought to take a while to get over it, oughtn't it?"

Rosamunde replied, "You cried last night, Dreda. But no, it is not normal to be this heavily affected over a break-up unless there were genuine feelings involved."

"Well last night was because…oh it doesn't matter, but that was the first time in ages."

Wendelin placed her hand on Dreda's knee. "I don't think you ought to go see him, Dreda. If you go to speak with him then you will somehow forgive him."

Dreda answered sulkily, "I don't want to be with Marcus any longer."

Rosamunde leant forward and spoke unusually seriously, "Oh yes, you do, Dreda. Don't lie to us. That is why you have refused to talk to him for the past month. You know that you will go back to him if you do."

Wendelin added, "We do notice when you look over at the Slytherin table to see where he is."

Dreda began to play with a thick gold bangle heavily inscribed with runes that was laid amongst her presents on top of a shimmering silk scarf and a thick green book. After a few moments she replied gravely, "I know you're right. I wish I could understand it, but I can't seem to be happy about anything, not even Daddy's special birthday gift. Nothing seems to mean anything anymore. All I want is to be able to be with him again."

Wendelin looked over at Rosamunde again for approval and then asked, "Could you be happy with him, Dreda?"

Dreda began sliding the bracelet on and off her hand and kicking her foot lightly against the side of the bed. Finally tossing the bangle back onto the eiderdown, she answered, "I don't know, but I am not sure that I could be happy without him. It isn't the same thing and I know that, but I am not sure that I care anymore. Maybe it doesn't have to make sense, liking Marcus I mean."

Rosamunde responded unhappily, "No, I don't think that love always makes sense, Dreda. Sometimes people love someone with no chance of the person ever loving them back and yet they still can't get free of it. You have to do what is right for you, Dreda. If you'll always be disappointed in the person Marcus is or the things that he does then I don't think you could ever be happy with him."

Wendelin added, "You weren't really that happy when you were together, Dreda."

Dreda shook her head. "I was always waiting for something bad to happen. It didn't make any sense for me to feel like I did about him. He isn't what I used to think I wanted."

Rosamunde looked towards the door of the room and responded carefully, "As I said, Dreda, there is no rule saying that it ever will make sense. Sometimes it just happens."

Dreda slipped off the bed and bent over to her trunk, where a set of school robes was laid out. "I know, Rosa. I think I have to go see him."

Wendelin jumped down from Dreda's bed and asked, "You're going to take him back, aren't you?"

Dreda, who had just ripped off her nightdress and was engaged in sliding her under-robes over her head, replied, "Yes, probably so."

Rosamunde and Wendelin looked at each other with resignation as Dreda pulled on her long black school robes. Neither said anything as they watched Dreda fitfully pull a comb through her hair and then shove her new bracelet over her arm. When Dreda had tucked her wand in her pocket and picked up her school bag from the floor beside the trunk, Rosamunde finally asked, "Do you want us to walk down with you, Dreda?"

Dreda looked up from smoothing down the front of her robes. "No. I don't know where he will be. I might not make it to breakfast, I don't know."

Wendelin nodded. "I'll save a few pieces of toast for you then."

Dreda barely acknowledged Wendelin's words as she hurried over to the door and said, "I'll see you in Potions, Wen."

Pushing through the Ravenclaw common-room as quickly as she could without looking undignified, Dreda did not even hear Jonathan speaking to her or Harold wishing her a happy birthday. As she exited the dormitory, Dreda looked about her and then calculated which stair would be the fastest to get down to the Great Hall. Deciding that the direct route was never quickest on Fridays, Dreda hurried down the corridor and began to descend the far stairs which seemed to be crowded with second- and third-years. As she pressed unceremoniously past them, Dreda saw that there were three large, dark-haired Slytherins at the far end of the corridor at the base of the staircase, who were headed towards breakfast and that one of them was definitely Marcus.

Only when she approached the place where they would all turn from the corridor onto another, did Dreda allow herself to look up from the stone floor at Marcus. He was intently watching her walk towards him and Dreda could tell that his classmates were aware of what was happening since they silently peeled away from either side of him and turned to walk down to the Great Hall.

After a moment of complete silence, Marcus finally spoke hoarsely, "Happy Birthday, Dreda."

Dreda moved directly in front of Marcus and glared at him with narrowed eyes and hands pressed angrily on her hips. "I got your present, Marcus. I told you to let me alone. I have asked you not to send me things or write me or anything. Why won't you listen, Marcus?"

Marcus gestured wildly, "Because I still love you, Dreda. I would do anything if you would just give me another chance."

Dreda shook her head. "I know that you think you love me, Marcus, but even if you did I don't know that you can be the wizard that I need."

Marcus answered forcefully, "Won't you let me try, Dreda?

Dreda stepped aside so that a small group of seventh-year Ravenclaws could pass them and heard one of them whisper, "I thought Yaxley had finally dropped Flint."

Dreda looked at Marcus and said, "I don't want to stand here where everyone can hear us, Marcus. Should we go outside?"

Marcus cast a hopeful look at Dreda and said, "There is an unused classroom down there if you would rather."

Dreda agreed with a gesture and followed Marcus as he led her down the corridor towards a small side area with two doors. When he held open a door she stepped inside the barely lit room.

Gesturing with his wand to light a heavy candelabrum that was placed on a large oak desk at the front of the room, Marcus asked tentatively, "Is here alright, Dreda?"

Dreda nodded. "I've been unhappy, Marcus."

Marcus started to move closer to her and then hesitated. He didn't respond to Dreda, but merely stood watching her.

"Why would you do something like that? I can accept all of your dirty play in the game, since you will be penalised by the referee when you go too far and the players know what they are signing on for when they get on their brooms. But if you are going to win at Quidditch you have to do it when your team is _on the pitch_. When you are off your broom then everything is off limits. Anyway your team is excellent, Marcus, so you don't need to do something that rotten. You terrified many of us in the stands and a Ravenclaw player could have been injured, Marcus."

Marcus clenched his jaw and answered, "I was trying to get to Potter, Dreda. You know how he reacted to the Dementors during the other game."

Dreda angrily snapped, "Yes and I know how I reacted, too, Marcus. Think how many of us have seen things that are too horrible to want to remember. When the Dementors boarded the train I fell into a trance where all I could hear was some witch screaming as my father cursed her over and over. Then when the Dementors swarmed the game I could see green light flashing through the air as I heard my uncle's voice shouting The Curse. I am not the only one who has those sorts of memories, Marcus. Wendelin couldn't speak after the time on the train until almost when the food arrived on the tables at the Feast."

Looking completely horrified, Marcus reached out a hand to Dreda's arm. "I didn't think about frightening you, Dreda. I would never want to upset you."

Dreda did not pull away from Marcus as he placed his other hand on her back. "But you did. You have to do more than just not want to hurt me. You have to think about what you do and consider what it might mean to me."

Marcus was now gripping Dreda firmly as he answered, "I will. Promise me that you will talk to me though, Dreda. Explain to me what you are really thinking and tell me about what upsets you, so I know what not to do."

Dreda nodded, "I can tell you some things, Marcus, but you have to learn to think on your own. I can't predict everything that you will do and I shouldn't have to do. You need to learn to think about other people, Marcus."

Marcus looked nervously down at Dreda, "I don't know if I can suss that sort of thing on my own, Dreda. I will try, but I don't know what I can do."

Dreda assented with a sharp nod before she suddenly melted into Marcus' embrace. Marcus stood holding her for almost a full minute before he asked thickly, "We are together again now, Dreda?"

Dreda lifted her head and smiled faintly, "Yes, Marcus." As Marcus pulled Dreda closer with both hands so that she was almost lifted off her feet, Dreda hung her arms round his neck and whispered in his ear, "I've missed you."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter** **11**

"Do you know, I never thought about Rosamunde and Harold? It seems very odd to think of them together."

Marcus, whose arm was firmly wrapped about Dreda's waist, replied with little interest, "I wouldn't think that Barbary could handle Dawlish, to be honest. She's a right handful that one."

Dreda leant into Marcus' side as a wind rushed by them. "She is, isn't she? I don't really know how it happened either. Just one night right before bed Harold suddenly blurted out that he really liked Rosa and so Jonathan told me at breakfast and I asked Wen what she thought and then she told Harold that he should ask Rosa out. But he can't manage her drama and tantrums at all."

Marcus shook his head. "No, but then not every wizard can handle being with a strong-willed, intelligent witch, Dreda."

Dreda looked up at Marcus as they walked along the wooded path. "Harold's a very nice bloke, Marcus, and I don't see how he can stand for it. You have to be strong with Rosa or she'll flatten you."

Marcus nodded. "I don't know Barbary, Dreda, but I would think that it is going to take an equally strong-willed wizard to succeed with Dawlish."

Dreda sighed. "Do you know that is what Wilfred said at Christmas? But then he says the same thing about me. You would think I was a termagant if you believed my brothers."

Marcus let out a bark of laughter. "Not the conversations I have had with them. They seem to think that you are perfect and, of course, they're not wrong. Why would any wizard want a silly ever-nattering witch like Drusilla Crownes or Magapia Suggs if they could have someone like you?"

Dreda rolled her eyes, but smiled as she replied, "Maybe because Drusilla Crownes is one of the prettiest witches that I've ever seen?"

Marcus shrugged, "She is gorgeous, but definitely the most boring witch I've ever talked to. Unlike you. You're beautiful and you're fascinating, Dreda."

Dreda laughed. "And what will the all the Quidditch scouts say when they discover that you are half-blind, Marcus?" Tightening her grip on Marcus' hand, Dreda commented lightly, "Do you know, I think that this is the first time that I was ever glad that Eldred and Will don't have the same Easter holiday as we do?"

Marcus looked meaningfully at Dreda as he held open the low wooden gate for her to walk through. "I'm not blind, Dreda. Durmstrang always has different holidays, doesn't it?

Dreda nodded. "Yes, of course. They still use the Julian calendar, Marcus. It is only because they have three weeks off for the Christmas holiday that we even get to see them at all. Eldred says that this is because there are so many students whose families are not Orthodox that they have set up their Christmas holidays to overlap both the Western and Orthodox Christmases. But their Easter isn't until our May 1st this year, so I won't see them at all until summer."

Marcus frowned, "I never understood all that sort of thing. Why not just use one calendar everywhere?"

Dreda shrugged, "You know that wizards don't much like change. Especially if you've a tradition based on one calendar and you know that astronomers aren't going to like changing all the charts, are they? Some older spells are based round the Julian calendar anyway and Daddy says that conversions are never quite accurate enough."

Marcus scrunched up his face as he thought. "We talked about that in History in fourth-year or something."

Dreda sighed, "Second-year Astronomy, yes. You never told me what Professor Flitwick said, Marcus. Were you at least back up to an Acceptable?"

"Yes, barely. I didn't hand in anything during those four weeks we were apart, Dreda, and I didn't write a word down during lectures. There has been quite a lot of catch-up work."

Dreda stopped in the middle of the narrow dirt path and looked seriously up at Marcus. "You have three classes, Marcus. You have had plenty of time to make up everything. I've worked with you, as well. How can you _still_ be behind?"

Marcus looked shamefacedly at Dreda. "I don't know. I really have been trying, Dreda. I've done alright in Defence at least."

"I hope so, Marcus. That is your best subject."

Marcus growled, "Well it is the one I'm less stupid at, you mean. Professor Lupin doesn't much like me either and is only decent to me because you're his pet, Dreda."

Dreda replied heatedly, "Hardly, but Professor Lupin is very kind, Marcus. He has been such an immense help to me in preparing for the examination. But if he doesn't like you terribly much there must be a reason. What did you do?"

Marcus shrugged. "He was a Gryffindor, wasn't he? Sometimes that is enough. Professor McGonagall can hardly bear to look me in the eye without wincing."

Dreda scoffed, "Because your lot has swept Gryffindor at Quidditch for the past seven years and she is their head of house. You aren't precisely an angel in class either, are you? But Professor Lupin is very fair. If he dislikes you then you've done something."

Marcus grumbled, "Nothing specific."

Dreda asked wearily, "What did you do?"

"Nothing. I didn't do anything, Dreda. It was Greengrass, actually."

"Davy Greengrass? But he is always next to you, Marcus, and usually doing what you tell him to do."

Marcus scratched his head. "Greengrass put an Unravelling Charm on Lupin's robes. Of course Lupin knew straight off that someone had done it, but didn't know who, did he? He was sure it was one of us, but since I was busy using those halo clamps, then he can't have thought it was me, Dreda."

Dreda groaned, "Eurgh! Why must your friends always be so pointless?"

Marcus shrugged. "Well you would hardly think Lupin would notice would you? His robes look as if they are only held together by all the darning patches."

Dreda replied with a dangerous look in her eyes, "He's an excellent wizard, Marcus, and possibly knows more about Dark creatures and unrestrained natural magic than any other wizard I've ever met. He knows about the really exciting, esoteric things."

Marcus glowered at her. "You _do_ like him, don't you?"

Dreda said contemptuously, "Oh not again, honestly. Must you be jealous of every wizard I ever talk to, Marcus?"

Marcus shook his head. "No and I'm not. I haven't said a word about Eddison or Barbary have I? But I have very good reason to keep an eye on McDonough, Dreda."

"I am not interested in Jonathan, Marcus, no matter what he feels about me. But if you can't trust me then how can we ever have a relationship?"

Marcus stared down at Dreda. "I trust you, Dreda. It is other wizards that I don't trust. There is always going to be a better choice than me, isn't there? Your friends, your family, everyone is telling you to turf me."

Dreda reached out her arms and shoved Marcus away from her as she began marching towards the formal gardens ahead of them. "You are a total prat, Marcus."

Marcus ran after her, calling out, "Dreda, wait."

"It doesn't matter who my family wants me to like, Marcus. You are the one that I'm seeing, aren't you? If you want to keep this relationship then you have to start work on who you are and what you do. Getting jealous and making an idiot of me by standing round the library trying to burn a hole in Jonathan's head _with your eyes _only makes me wonder why I bother."

Marcus caught up with Dreda, who had plucked an enormous green leaf from one of the few plants that showed early signs of life, and was pulling it to shreds. "Dreda, don't be angry, please. I do trust you, I swear I do."

Speaking through clenched teeth, Dreda answered, "No, you don't. If you trusted me then you would already know that I wouldn't have Jonathan if he came free with a lifetime supply of cocoanut archangel cakes. But all of your pathetic, green-eyed antics are very likely to make me want to reconsider _you_ instead of making me stay away from other wizards."

Marcus placed his hands over Dreda's and said uneasily, "You have always said that I was merely on probation. You won't let me call you my girlfriend or kiss you if there is anyone who could see. I can't sit with your friends and you won't stay if my mates are there. I…I know that you aren't very happy with me and so I am not so sure, Dreda."

Dreda pulled her hands away from him. "Well there isn't another wizard that interests me. If you want to increase the odds that we will stay together then stop being such a rotten berk, Marcus."

Marcus frowned. "I really have been trying."

Dreda turned her face away.

Speaking in a pained voice, Marcus asked, "Do you really think that I'm a berk? I…I mean I know that everyone else thinks I'm useless, but I had thought that at least you liked me, Dreda."

A flash of guilt passing across her face, Dreda spun round to look at Marcus. "Marcus, you aren't useless. I think that you have amazing potential. I just want to see you use it."

Uncertain, Marcus asked again, "Do you like me, Dreda?"

Dreda sighed, "Yes, I do. I am just tired of being disappointed."

* * *

Rosamunde pumped her fist in the air as she exclaimed, "I can't believe your father actually agreed to let you go, Dreda! This is going to be brilliant!" Looking at her appearance in the reflection on the mirror Rosamunde continued, "Do you think that this badge is a bit too blatant?"

Wendelin laughed with resignation. "Well yes, but that is your intention, isn't it? You're lucky Harold isn't here because he'd have fits if he saw you advertising for a fight by wearing a Harpies badge when we're sitting in the Falcons section."

Dreda stopped pulling her brush through her already shining hair and commented, "You did promise no fights, Rosa. I swore to Marcus that you would behave. Remember, these seats aren't in the galleries. We're going to be in the boxes sitting with people who could be deciding Marcus' career. If you even _think_ about causing trouble, I promise you that I'll curse your hair permanently pink."

Wendelin nodded. "And you don't want to see what I'd do. You promised you would wear that Even-humour ring, too. Where is it?"

Rosamunde held out her hand, which had an extremely ugly silver ring with a large, irregularly shaped orange piece of glass. "Only because this is a Harpies game, Dreda, will I wear this stupid thing. I'll be good, but so had Flint better."

Wendelin answered immediately, "He will be on his _best_ behaviour, Rosa. He promised Uncle Hunwald that he would be Dreda's personal bodyguard. Although even for a Falcon's game I would think that violence in the boxes is too much to expect."

Dreda, who had resumed brushing her hair, said, "I thought so, but Daddy has always refused to allow me to go with Will to a Falcon's game because he thinks I can't handle myself."

Rosamunde smirked, "Obviously he's never seen your Mitten Hands curse."

Dreda wrestled to clip a long silver slide through her hair. "No, he hasn't. Daddy is very odd, he thinks I'm the cleverest witch in the world yet he completely believes that I'm helpless."

Wendelin finished tying her hair bow and commented, "Well they're all like that, aren't they? I think I know more defensive curses than both my brothers combined, but my father still has one of them escort me into Hogsmeade if I want to shop."

Rosamunde flopped back on Dreda's large canopied white bed. "Wendelin, you know more nasty curses than _all_ of our siblings combined. You're getting quite scary these days. And Dreda, you don't actually do much defence work in terms of curses. You spend all of your time on odd creatures or weird phases of the moon and that lot."

Dreda shook her head. "You know, Rosa, I'm sure I could defend myself if necessary. It is just that sort of thing doesn't interest me. You wouldn't believe the truly odd and exciting ways that magic manifests itself, Rosa."

Rosamunde pulled a face. "I don't think I really care enough to spend hours reading about it when there won't be any exams on it. At least Defence Spells are useful, though I don't see why anyone needs to know how to fuse someone's eyelids shut."

Wendelin made an irritated sound. "Well you never do know, do you? I might want to use that to blind my opponent. You have to be prepared, Rosa. You don't know what curses your opponents will cast, so you need to have one ready at all times."

Rosamunde looked at Dreda. "You would think that she has enemies lurking in every cupboard."

Dreda frowned. "We had better hurry down. Marcus must have got here ten minutes ago. I don't want him to have to sit downstairs talking to Daddy any longer than necessary."

Rosamunde sniggered. "Not if you want Marcus to leave here with his limbs intact."

Dreda looked round her frilly, white and green bedroom for her lightweight blue cloak as she shoved on two thick, jewelled bangles. "Especially since there is a Quidditch game against Gryffindor the Friday after we get back to school from this Easter break."

* * *

"But Marcus you know that they are still interested in you for next year. The Falcons have been courting you since the end of last year, haven't they? They are the ones who offered you the contract?"

Marcus nodded, "Yeah, but we lost, Dreda. We lost to those effing Gryffindors."

Dreda stiffened and glared at Marcus, who quickly apologised for his crude language. "Sorry, Dreda, I forgot."

Dreda gave Marcus another unimpressed look and said, "Gryffindor have a truly excellent Seeker, whether you like it or not, and Malfoy is erratic. However you played excellently, Marcus, which you always do. The two scouting wizards that came to the last game were at the one with Ravenclaw, weren't they? And considering the Falcons' own style of play, they must like your ruthless philosophy as a Captain."

Marcus shrugged and said despairingly, "They've never seen me lose, Dreda. And this is the first game that Smith came to see and he saw _that_. I'm buggered. You know it, Dreda. If they reissue an offer to me it will be for the practice reserves."

Dreda laughed scornfully, "Not unless they are idiots. You know that you are a really excellent player, Marcus, and you've had an extra year of play here at Hogwarts so your skills have only improved. Wilfred always said that you were good enough to play professionally."

Marcus scratched his head and clenched his other hand into a fist. "If my father hadn't forced me to come back then I would have spent the last year in the Falcon's playing reserves and would have still had a perfect Quidditch Cup record as Slytherin Captain."

Dreda reached out to touch Marcus' tightly clenched hand. "Marcus you are the most successful Slytherin Captain in 80 years."

Marcus replied with anguish, "Eighty-two and if we'd have won that game it would have been 247 years. It was _my_ decision to allow Malfoy to buy his way onto the team. It is my fault that we lost, Dreda. We are losers and I'll never live that down, never."

Dreda jumped off the chair where she had been sitting and sat down directly on Marcus' lap. "Is that really how you see it, Marcus?"

Marcus' attention shifted very suddenly to his unusually affectionate girlfriend, who he had now wrapped tightly in his arms. "Yes."

Dreda settled her head on his shoulder and commented, "I don't. I think that you are an amazing player. I don't really like your style of play, which you know, but no one can deny that you have been immensely successful."

Marcus seemed to find it hard to speak in such close proximity to Dreda, but answered, "The Falcons don't like losers, Dreda."

Dreda commented curiously, "I thought that their motto was "Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads." It sounds to me like you are just their sort of player, Marcus."

Marcus lifted his shoulders in resignation, "I have to get an offer, Dreda. You and I both know that I don't have a future in another career, no matter what marks I get on the NEWTs. If I can't play Quidditch then I have nothing. Your father will toss me out on my ear when I go to him, Dreda."

Dreda pulled back and asked coldy, "What do you mean?"

Marcus shook his head. "I mean that I _have_ to get that offer, Dreda."

Dreda bit her lip and looked at Marcus' desperate expression. She knew what Marcus had meant, but the idea that he was thinking about marriage was far too much for now. She didn't know that she would be able to say yes to him even. "You will, Marcus. But we can't neglect our studies either. We have to finish revising for Defence."

Marcus looked forlornly at Dreda as she got off his lap and went back to her corner of the library table. "I think I'm ready for Defence, Dreda. Don't you think that we ought to go over more Charms?"

Dreda shook her head. "You have a better chance for a high NEWT in Defence, Marcus. If you are willing to pass Charms with at least an Acceptable then we can put more of our energies into Astronomy, which you are still failing, and Defence in which I really think you could have an O."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter** **12**

Rosamunde said plaintively, "It isn't fair."

Wendelin lifted her head to look over at Rosamunde. "Just because your family doesn't take you, doesn't mean that you can't be happy for us that we have been able to go. And Uncle Hunwald gave you a ticket for the Cup final, didn't he?"

Rosamunde kicked her foot against the edge of a large velveteen ottoman. "Mr Yaxley didn't give it to me, he only organised it. My family is perfectly able to pay for it, Wen. But you two have been to four matches already this summer, including England vs. Luxembourg."

Dreda cried, "But we lost that one!"

Rosamunde groaned. "That isn't the point! How often does one get to watch international play?"

Speaking in his sharp, clipped accent with a deep, nasal voice, Wilfred responded, "She has a point, Dreda. Perhaps we ought to take her along to the game with Spain. Cary can't go, so we have an extra ticket."

Dreda hopped up in her seat and shot a look of scorn at her brother Wilfred, who had just entered the room with his twin. "Well as it happens Wen has asked Cary for his ticket and he's given it to someone already, stupid prat."

Eldred walked over to his sister's side and responded with concern, "If you'd told me you wanted a ticket, pet, I would have got one for Dawlish. Want me to owl Cary?"

Rosamunde interrupted loudly, "Thanks, but I don't want to take a ticket away from anyone. I was just whinging. The Cup finals are the real match to see anyway."

Wilfred winked at Rosamunde and said, "So you don't want the ticket then?"

Dreda looked sharply at her brother. "Cary gave it to _you_? Why didn't you tell me?"

Wilfred shrugged, "Well I was planning on it, but you have never been here. You're always out with Flint or shopping with Wen. I don't think you've been home all week."

Rosamunde looked at Wilfred Yaxley with excitement and asked, "Are you taking the mickey or do you really have a ticket for me?"

Wilfred flicked a long, gilded piece of parchment towards Rosamunde and commented, "But it is the seat next to mine and Theseus Burke is on the other side of you. Still sure you want to come?"

Rosamunde grabbed up the parchment and answered, "Too right I do! What are you, mad?"

Eldred, who seemed to be inordinately interested in his brother, said slowly, "So she's coming then."

Dreda replied, "Looks like it. What time do we have to leave?"

Eldred turned back to his sister. "Thes is coming tonight, but Flint and Higgs are getting here at nine tomorrow. Our port key is at 9:33, so we will have to hurry. We'll be meeting my mates Vanya Terzyan and Yevgeny Cherchenko at the tent. Their tickets were so cheap that they had to arrive today."

* * *

Wendelin stood next to Dreda and reached to take the brush that Dreda was still pulling through her hair, saying with exasperation, "No one really cares what your hair looks like at the World Cup, Dreda. Besides, it will all be ruined when we take the port key, won't it?"

Dreda pulled away from Wendelin. "Not if I place an Affixing Charm on it, Wen. Leave me alone. I want to look my best."

Rosamunde added, "What does it really matter? You won't be seeing Marcus before tonight, since he's going with his parents."

Dreda picked up a hand mirror to check the back of her hair, which had been looped through a complicated silver knot. "I might well see them, since they will be sitting in the better boxes - like we are. They'll be on Ireland's side, too. And I haven't seen Marcus' father since I was seven. Therefore I want to look at least presentable, so let me alone."

Wendelin shrugged her shoulders and turned to Rosamunde. "Dom thinks his tent might be in the same section as ours. Where is Harold's?"

Rosamunde said with complete disinterest, "I have no idea. Heathcote is taking him and their sister, so you can imagine what that shall be like. There will be Weird Sisters groupies all round, I'm sure."

Dreda looked sharply at Rosamunde. "Why don't you just break it off with him if you aren't interested? He's a really nice bloke. You shouldn't waste his time."

Rosamunde began swinging her legs off the side of Dreda's extremely high bed. "I have been _trying_ to break it off, but it isn't easy. I don't even know why he likes me. I make him very nervous."

Wendelin checked her reflection in the mirror as she replied, "Dom says Harold is always defending you."

Dreda looked back at Rosamunde. "You're a beautiful witch, Rosa, especially when you bother to comb your hair and put on decent robes. It is no shock that Harold wanted to date you, but it is rather surprising that he is still trying considering how you have treated him."

Wendelin added, "You _are_ very pretty, Rosa. You're the only one of us who actually is. The only things I have are the green eyes and that charming Burke personality."

Dreda snorted. "Is that what we're calling it now? Too bad I'm all Yaxley then. And I do mean _all_ Yaxley. You would have thought that fate could have let me inherit at least one of Mother's features. But no, I have pasty pale skin, dreary limp black hair, very brown eyes that are too wide, a slightly roman nose, and I'm short. Not delicate or petite. I'm just _short_."

Wendelin put an arm round Dreda. "You are petite, actually, since everything about you is tiny. Short is when people are stumpy or fat or something. And what is wrong with your hair? I've always envied how straight and shiny it is. Mine always gets that kink in the back or frizzes up in the rain."

Rosamunde added, "Flint thinks you are _gorgeous_."

Dreda raised her hands in a gesture of resignation. "I know. I can't imagine why, but I think he really does. It is sweet, but I can't really take it too seriously, since I do have a working mirror. I never really minded being referred to as "decent looking" instead of pretty until Marcus started calling me beautiful. Now I sort of do mind."

Wendelin answered, "Actually, Marcus isn't the only one, Dreda. You know what Jonathan thinks and I heard Terrence Higgs say to Thes after the match with Spain that you've actually grown into a 'right fit bird for a Yaxley' and that he isn't surprised that Marcus is so in love. However he also said that he's told Marcus that if he mentioned anything more about you during their Quidditch pick-ups then Marcus won't be able to fly a broom for a month."

Rosamunde howled with laughter, "I can just see Higgs saying that to Flint!"

Dreda's eyes were as narrow as slits as she said, "Thank you for that nice story, Wen. I feel so much better. Shall we go? The port key is at 6:46 and we've got eight sleep-deprived people downstairs waiting on us."

* * *

Wendelin rolled her eyes as she watched her brother Theseus and Dreda's brother Eldred taking turns Charming the flames of the campfire into brighter and more shocking colours. "I don't ever remember seeing Thes so drunk. Why are wizards such idiots?"

Rosamunde, who was hunched over her knees and staring glumly into the night, said dully, "Wizards are just born fools, Wen. They can't help it. Witches on the other hand ought to be much cleverer. I am such a clot. Why couldn't I like Harold? He really is such a nice bloke."

Dreda, who was eating a very large piece of cocoanut cake that her father had bought for her before leaving to meet with Ulrich Drumbrogian, replied kindly, "He just wasn't the right one for you, Rosa. He took it very well."

Rosamunde mumbled, "I know. He really did."

Wendelin rolled her eyes in disgust as Theseus Burke howled loudly and cast a hex at a bird flying overhead. "Do you see our mothers anywhere, Dreda? I thought they were going over to talk with that horrid Kent woman, but they've been gone almost an hour. Surely they can't be talking to that awful woman for that long."

Dreda replied without much concern, "I don't know. Perhaps they found someone else with interesting gossip."

Rosamunde also now seemed to be watching Dreda's and Wendelin's brothers' antics as she asked, "Is Flint going to be allowed to come to see you?"

"I don't know. You saw how his father was today. You would think that Marcus hadn't passed any of his NEWTs again, instead of getting an O in Defence and two Es in Astronomy and Charms. I don't know what Mr Flint expected. Those are scores with which anyone could be satisfied."

Rosamunde shrugged. "Perhaps something else has happened. You haven't heard from Flint in several days."

"That is what I'm worried about. I am afraid that perhaps Marcus didn't get an offer from any teams. Contract day is next week, so he should have heard by yesterday at the latest."

Rosamunde suddenly yelped. Jumping up from her chair, she raised her wand and pointed it at Wilfred Yaxley, "Oy, Yaxley number 2, if you can't aim your curses a little more accurately then I'm going to leave a wound that will help you remember. That last one got my arm."

Wilfred and Icarus both turned and stared at Rosamunde before Wilfred began to walk towards her and Icarus started laughing wildly. Wilfred spoke thickly, "What hit your arm? Where?"

Rosamunde pointed at her sleeve. "That hole didn't happen on its own. What did you think you were doing? You could have hurt me or Dreda."

Wilfred looked at his sister and said repentantly, "I'm sorry, Dreda. Did I get you, too?"

Dreda snorted with disgust. "How much did you drink? You smell worse than a herd of Hippogriffs, Will."

Icarus, who had by now gained control of his laughter, shouted out, "Hey, Will, here are Poliakoff, Cherchenko, and Siwiec! Come on, let's go off and see if we can't find some fun."

Wilfred looked at Rosamunde and said earnestly, "I didn't mean to. Don't be cross." Then he turned on his heel and stumbled off towards his cousin, who was holding out a dark green bottle of Felton's Reserve to him.

Rosamunde made a choking gesture to Dreda and said, "What a tosser. At least they've gone, so we don't have to listen to their stupid songs and howling."

Wendelin agreed, "Honestly, they're like animals. Why don't we go and find Dom and Jonathan?"

Rosamunde looked somewhat uncomfortable. "I'd rather not, actually. Harold might be there and I really need some time before I have to see him again."

Wendelin looked sympathetically at her friend. "I didn't think of that."

Dreda suddenly hopped up from her seat and ran forward calling out, "Marcus!"

Both Wendelin and Rosamunde watched as Dreda threw her arms round Marcus' neck and Marcus spun her about exclaiming, "Dreda! Hell, it is good to see you."

Dreda slid down from Marcus' grasp and said accusingly, "You've been drinking, too."

Marcus hastily explained, "Only one with my father and my uncle."

Dreda looked as if she didn't quite believe him, but after a brief hesitation she jumped up to kiss him. "I wondered if you were going to come at all."

Marcus stole another kiss and replied forcefully, "Short of casting Impedimenta or a Body Bind Curse, my father couldn't have done much to keep me away. I'm sorry that I couldn't speak with you earlier. You weren't angry were you?"

"No, I could see your father didn't want us to talk."

Marcus' expression darkened. "Yes, he has made it very clear that I am a complete disappointment as a son."

Dreda pressed her face into Marcus' shoulder as he tightened his arms round her, but asked with surprise, "Why? You did very well on your NEWTs. I am so proud of you."

Marcus, who had started to say something, stopped and looked down at Dreda. "You are?"

"Of course. I was sure you were smart enough to succeed at your NEWTs, Marcus. You only needed to prepare for them. You worked quite hard and I'm very proud."

Marcus looked as if he didn't know what to think, but lapsed into a sort of shocked silence until Dreda asked, "Why is he so upset then?"

Marcus cleared his throat, "Because I agreed to take the offer from the Falcons. He had set up a meeting for me with someone in Ludicrous Patents for a clerking position."

Dreda said, "That is ridiculous, why would you want to be a clerk? But wait, Marcus. You got the offer? Really?"

Marcus grinned as he heard the excitement in Dreda's voice, "Yes. I am going to fly against Ingles during the first practice to determine if I am placed on reserves or the starting team."

Dreda squealed and clapped her hands. "See Marcus? I told you that they would want you! I'm just so proud of you!"

Dreda turned round to look for Rosamunde and Wendelin to tell them the good news and saw that Dom Bradley, Jonathan McDonough, and Norbert Eddison were all standing beside Wendelin and Rosamunde and staring at Marcus and Dreda. Sensing the waves of antagonism that were coming off the three Ravenclaw boys as they watched her with Marcus, Dreda said uncomfortably, "Oh! Hello Jonathan…Norbert…Dom. I didn't know that you had all got here."

Rosamunde answered, "They only just did. You're going to be playing with the Falcons, Flint?"

Marcus snaked his arm round Dreda's shoulders and replied defensively, "Yes."

Dom Bradley said stiffly, "Congratulations. Perfect team for you." After having been blatantly pinched by Wendelin, Dom added, "Well they are, his play style matches theirs."

Dreda added, "Very true. He should do very well there. Do you know Norbert Eddison, Marcus? He is in my year."

The plump blond wizard standing between Dom and Jonathan extended a hand uneasily. "Pleasure."

Marcus said in an almost friendly tone, "Same. Are you related to Arnold Eddison?"

Surprised, Norbert stammered, "Y-yes he was my great-uncle."

Marcus tilted his head. "Mine too. Don't think we've ever met before though, have we?"

Norbert looked somewhat confused. "Yours too? Oh. Great-Aunt Yersinia."

Marcus nodded. "Right, she is my maternal grandmother. Your grandfather was Wilbert then?"

Norbert seemed somewhat dazed, but said, "Yes, right. Yes. I'll, ah, have to tell Mum that we met."

Marcus had turned his attention to Jonathan, who was making no attempt to hide his disdain. Dreda tightened her grip on Marcus' arm as she saw Rosamunde open her mouth to speak when there was a sudden loud shout coming from several tents over. All six young wizards and witches looked about them in shock as they heard a bang and some screams.

Marcus' left arm immediately pulled Dreda to his side, as he reached for his wand pocket. Dreda, trying to push Marcus away, cried out, "What is it? Can you see?"

Dom, who was hovering protectively next to Wendelin with his wand outstretched, answered, "No."

There was another scream and a loud series of bangs before a crowd of four wizards dressed in Ireland supporters' robes raced past them in a panic.

Marcus, still holding Dreda tightly to him, looked over at Jonathan and shouted over the increasing noise, "You and Eddison go and look. Bradley and I will stay behind with the witches."

Wendelin pushed Dom aside and said irritably, "Shut up, Marcus. We can defend ourselves."

Dreda, who was looking very white, said in a high pitched voice, "No, Wen, something is wrong. This feels…I remember this. This feels familiar."

Wendelin narrowed her eyes and looked over where Dreda was staring and suddenly stood up straighter. "Are you sure?"

Dreda nodded. "Yes. It is our lot."

Wendelin cursed under her breath, shocking Dom into asking, "What do you mean?"

Marcus said gruffly, "Exactly. That is what I am saying. I am not leaving Dreda alone. You two go."

Jonathan and Norbert hurried off into the clearing ahead and Marcus said firmly, "Go back into the tent, Dreda, and you two should go with her."

Rosamunde turned without a word and pulled Dreda into the tent, but Wendelin stood firmly next to Marcus, pushing off Dom's arm when he tried to put it protectively round her waist. Wendelin looked angrily at Marcus, whose nostrils were flaring as he scanned the trees in the dark, searching for something that did not seem to be there. "I don't need to be protected like a child, Marcus Flint."

Marcus sneered, "No you don't. Don't think I can't guess the magic you're into, Wendelin Burke. But you can protect Dreda, whilst Bradley and I try to discourage anyone from bothering us. Think about it, Burke. Three young witches standing out here would be _targets_."

Wendelin pushed Dom's arm away again and as Dom began to speak she said crossly, "Alright, Dom. Fine. But only until Jonathan and Norbert get back and we know what is going on."

Dom waited until Wendelin had ducked under the tent flaps to ask angrily, "What are you saying about Wen's magic, Flint?"

Marcus returned to scanning the trees on either side of them and replied, "Sort that out yourself later, Bradley. Just keep your eyes open and hex anything you don't recognise."

"Surely we don't need to…"

Both wizards stiffened their wand hands as there was another loud bang and a light green mist began to waft past them. Jonathan suddenly appeared from behind the cloud of smoke, coughing, and shouting, "It is Death Eaters."

Norbert, who was behind him, choked out, "They're attacking."

Marcus swore crudely, walked back to the tent, and tossed back the door flaps. All three witches were poised with their wands raised, Dreda and Wendelin standing protectively in front of Rosamunde as they faced the tent door.

Marcus growled, "You were right, Dreda. We need to get you somewhere safe."

Wendelin ran over to a large bag and opened it hurriedly. "Here, Rosa, you put this one on. Dreda, look in Thes' bag. I think he left his cloak in there."

Dreda sank down and rummaged through the dark blue bag where Wendelin had pointed and pulled out a dark black cloak with a hood.

Rosamunde slipped into the coal black cloak that Wendelin had handed her and asked nervously, "Where do we go? Back to our port key? Is it set up for exit?"

Wendelin said sharply, "No, we'll just head further into the woods. We can manage individual troublemakers; it is the mob that is a problem." Wendelin pulled on her own cloak, which was identical to those of her brothers, and pushed out of the tent with a grunt of anger.

Once outside, Jonathan and Norbert walked over to Rosamunde, who was looking utterly terrified, and stood on either side of her. There was now a crowd of people rushing about chaotically through what had been their campsite. Dom, having been rebuffed again by Wendelin, was standing uncertainly next to Norbert.

The group began to walk through the crowd, huddling together as a witch screamed and several babies wailed near them. Almost as soon as they had passed the clearing, someone pointed at their black cloaks and shouted hysterically, "They're Death Eaters! It's more of them."

Suddenly Dreda felt herself being grabbed by a pair of strong hands as someone tried to pull down the hood of her cloak. A woman's voice screeched, "Stun them!"

Before she could react Dreda was picked up in Marcus' arms like a sack of flour and she heard Marcus bellow, "Leave my witch alone, you filthy slag!" The next thing that she heard was a shriek of pain at the same time that Marcus shouted a spell that she did not know.

Someone cried out, "Down, Rosa!" and there was another scream of terror and pain behind her as Wendelin and Jonathan both shouted spells unintelligibly. Dreda yelled, "Put me down, Marcus."

But instead of complying, Marcus ran deeper into the woods, hexing two drunken Armenian wizards who were wielding large sticks and running towards him. Dreda kicked her feet and screamed, "Put me down!"

Marcus only stopped when they were behind a tree and carefully set Dreda down with the injunction, "Stay here with me until the others catch us up."

Dreda leant against Marcus, heaving and shaking from fear. She could hear more people yelling and another terrified scream of pain so she pressed her face into Marcus' chest as she gripped her wand tightly. However at that moment they could hear the rustle of leaves as someone hurried towards them. Dreda immediately turned so that she was facing the noise and readied herself to attack.

Yet when she saw the dark figure with the heavy cowl draped over its head approaching, Dreda lowered her wand and screeched, "Daddy!"

The wizard broke into a run and exclaimed, "Dreda, my little one! Thank God you're safe."

Dreda threw herself at her father, who pushed back his hood and kissed his daughter's forehead as he shakily said, "You left the site, darling; you shouldn't have left without me."

Dreda continued to clutch her father's cloak and answered, "I was with Marcus and the others. It wasn't safe for us to stay."

"Where are your brothers?"

Dreda's voice was muffled as she replied, "I don't know. They all went off a little before all this started."

As Hunwald Yaxley continued to gaze intensely at Marcus, who was standing beside them, they all heard a shout not far from them. "Come on, pet. We have to find your cousin and I have to make sure your mother is safe."

Dreda let go of her father's arm and stuck out her wand determinedly. Marcus stepped closer to Dreda with a challenging look at Hunwald, who said, "Very well, but stay close to her. I will take the lead."

Marcus pulled up Dreda's hood, which had fallen down, and they all three began to head towards the sounds of pandemonium.

But it was not a few yards away that they found the stunned bodies of Jonathan and Norbert lying next to two unknown bearded wizards. Dom was still standing, wand hand dropped to his side, but not moving as he stared at Wendelin. Wendelin had surrounded herself with a ring of fire and was still holding her wand pointed directly at a kneeling wizard, who was bleeding profusely from underneath his gruesome mask and gurgling as he attempted to raise his enormous body from the ground.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter** **13**

Marcus flipped the page of his magazine languidly and stared apathetically at the glossy picture of a set of Beater's bats. He was still tired, even though he'd slept all afternoon the day before and then until ten that morning. The furious frenzy at the World Cup site had been unlike anything he remembered beyond a dim memory of something when he was a boy – when his cousin had disappeared. It had shocked him that Dreda, and apparently Wendelin, remembered more of those years than he did although they were two years younger. They should have been far too young to have those memories, but Marcus knew that the aftermath of the war had lasted several years for some families. Apparently the Yaxleys and Burkes were two of them.

Tossing aside the magazine, Marcus stood up from the chair beside the window and began to walk about the room in thought. He had known for months that Wendelin Burke had been dabbling with Dark spells, however he had not been prepared to discover that that his girlfriend's best friend had been seriously training herself in the Dark Arts. Witches like Burke were not usually the sort that went bad. However, Burke had a family situation very much like Dreda. Marcus had to wonder if perhaps Dreda had been getting more interested in dangerous spells than was safe, as well.

Marcus picked up the portrait of Dreda that he kept by his bed and peered down at his girlfriend, who was smiling bewitchingly up at him from within the frame. As Dreda's picture-self rolled her eyes at him and began to rummage in her school bag for a book, Marcus could not erase the image of the look that he had seen in her eyes that night in the woods when she had been searching for Rosamunde.

Setting down the picture, Marcus reached to pick his magazine back up when there was a knock at his door. "Yes?"

The door was opened by his mother, who commanded, "Hurry up and at least brush your hair, Marcus. Etheldreda Yaxley is downstairs and you can't go down there looking like a yeti."

Marcus dropped the magazine on the floor, saying, "She's here? Why is she here?" He raced over to his chest of drawers where he snatched up his comb and pulled it roughly through his longish hair.

"She didn't tell me why, Marcus, but I would imagine that she is upset about everything that went on at the World Cup. You know that her brothers were involved and narrowly escaped apprehension."

Marcus grimaced. He had naturally assumed that Wilfred and Eldred had been one of the several gangs of young wizards who had been generally wreaking havoc before the Death Eaters had staged their entrance. However he had not known that they had done more. "May I go down now?"

Celestina shrugged her shoulders elegantly. "I suppose you may, even though your robes look like you slept in them."

Marcus dashed out of the room and made for the well worn back stairs of the old house. As he loped towards the front sitting room where his mother was sure to have left Dreda, Marcus heard his father's voice emanating from the room. When he hastily opened the door, Marcus saw that Cassius Flint was indeed standing over Dreda drawling, "…certainly a pity to think that any permanent damage might have been done to any of the Muggles."

Marcus could see from Dreda's expression that she was almost distraught, so he interrupted his father's conversation. "Hello, Dreda. This is a surprise."

Dreda had already pushed herself off her stiff cane chair and run forward to Marcus. "Marcus, I am sorry to have come without warning. I really just needed to talk to you."

Marcus looked at his father, who did not seem very pleased to have been interrupted, and asked, "Would you mind, Father, if we went for a walk outside?"

Dreda turned towards Cassius Flint and said in a wobbly voice, "I am sorry, I think I was rude, but I didn't mean to be. I just wanted to see Marcus, if you don't mind."

Smiling smoothly, Cassius Flint said in a low, slick voice, "Of course, my dear. I wouldn't want to get in the way of you two young ones. Celestina and I are so pleased about your continued relationship with our son."

Dreda smiled uncertainly at Marcus' father, entirely aware that he hated the fact that his son was involved with a Yaxley, and answered, "Thank you, sir."

Marcus placed an arm round Dreda and hustled her out of the room and into the corridor. "What is wrong, love? Has something happened?"

Dreda waved her hand and replied, "Outside, let's go outside, please."

Marcus put his hand on her elbow and led her to the door into the somewhat rundown gardens. As soon as they reached a tall, unsightly shrubbery, Dreda exclaimed with anguish, "Daddy is sending them away! He is making them both go off to a friend of his in Crete where they will have to work on this wizard's research for the next year."

Marcus frowned as he asked, "Why is he sending them away, Dreda?"

Dreda's voice caught as she swallowed a sob. "Because they were all out with my uncle Yaxley. Thes, Cary, Will, Eldred, and those Durmstrang friends of theirs. Thes and Cary Splinched a Muggleborn's arms and probably did some permanent damage. Aunt Althea is sending them to her uncle in Portugal until the family are sure that the Ministry doesn't have any evidence against them, which they won't because Uncle Edmond's Obliviating Curses are incredibly good. But Daddy says that Eldred used the Imperius Curse to make some old Mudblood dance about like a monkey. Eldred swears that was Siwiec and that all Eldred and Will did was Charm another wizard's clothing to continuously tickle him. But it doesn't matter. Daddy has had the most incredible row with Uncle Edmond and is sending Will and Eldred away from our uncle's influence before they get themselves tossed into Azkaban. I won't see them for at least a year, maybe longer."

Marcus pressed Dreda down onto an age-darkened stone bench and said gently, "You can still owl them, love. You know that they will write to you. At least they aren't going away permanently."

Dreda sniffled, "Yes, but they were going to _finally_ be home after all those years away at Durmstrang. Mother is in a blind rage about Daddy blaming Wilfred for anything. She won't have it that Will can have taken part in it, but you know that Will was right there, Marcus. If Eldred did anything then Will did, too. Besides that, you know that when my cousin Icarus is there that Will turns into a beast."

Marcus, who did not like either of the Burke brothers, assented with a nod. "When are they leaving?"

Dreda pressed a small purple handkerchief against her eyes as she replied, "They left this morning. Father has taken them. Mother threw the coffeepot at his head this morning, but it had no effect. But of course Aunt Althea is at the house now and they are trying to sort out what to do with Wendelin. I couldn't bear it. I just had to come see you."

Marcus blinked with surprise. "They aren't going to send Burke away, are they? She was attacking in self-defence and protecting Dawlish, wasn't she?"

Dreda closed her eyes as she tried to block the tears, which were beginning to stream steadily down her cheeks. "Yes, of course she was. I don't know what happened exactly. I haven't been allowed to speak to Wen and Rosa has refused to say anything other than that Wendelin saved her."

Marcus shook his head slowly, "Whatever it was that Burke did to that Death Eater, it was very Dark magic, Dreda. That was some sort of Purian magic that made the fire ring, wasn't it? And then the Concealment Charm she cast round Rosamunde…Dreda all of it is seriously Dark magic."

Dreda nodded sorrowfully. "I know. We've been talking to her about the books she has been reading for some time, but I never thought that she would actually use any of it."

Marcus looked down at Dreda and replied gravely, "I don't think that you actually thought that. You knew she would use it if provoked, but you were hoping she would never get the chance. She hasn't just read about it, love. You know that to do Purian Spells like that she has to have practised."

Dreda covered her face with her hands. "Rosamunde's mother is furious with us, too. She is blaming us for all this, since we took Rosa to the World Cup, and we're all pure-bloods. She is accusing my brothers of being involved, but you should have seen when my brothers found out that someone had attacked Rosa. Wilfred actually looked green."

Marcus asked seriously, "But Mrs Dawlish is a Muggle, right? She won't understand, Dreda."

"Yes, but her husband is a wizard, so she knows about the Death Eaters from before. Mrs Dawlish is sure that Rosa would be a target if the Death Eaters start attacking again."

Marcus said the only thing that he could think of that might reassure Dreda, "This was probably a one time event, Dreda. I haven't heard anything about a new war or people talking about starting up the terror again. And you know I would have heard if it were anything big. You and Burke are unusual – most of our lot are in Slytherin, Dreda, and if something were going to happen someone in our house would probably have heard."

Dreda looked with irritation at Marcus as she said, "I _know_ that. Wen didn't get nearly as much trouble from her family for being Sorted to Ravenclaw, since her mother was a Hufflepuff. But I have been hearing for six years how strange it is that I didn't get into Slytherin. Well you know that the Sorting Hat considered it. Almost the first thing that it did when it dropped on my head was say, "Ahhh, another Yaxley. I think I know what to do with you." But then it said something about thirst for knowledge, not power, and suddenly popped me into Ravenclaw. I cried all that night."

Marcus replied with a shrug, "The hat didn't stay on my head more than five seconds. Didn't say anything to me either, it just shouted, "Slytherin!""

Ignoring Marcus, Dreda continued, "If you'd heard anything it would have been from children of people just like my parents. So you don't think I would have heard even before you would? My family is still very involved with everything, Marcus. Yours never were actively in it during the last war. My uncle Edmond actually did join the Death Eaters and my father supported the cause and his brother with thousands of Galleons. You know perfectly well what the Burke family has done, too. Still does actually in that shop my Great-great-uncle and his partner run in London. Odd things have been happening since last year and some people have been getting a little restless. Something is going to happen soon, Marcus. Wendelin has been prophesying a new war since the Chamber of Secrets was opened."

Marcus asked, "Is that why she has been sliding into the Dark Arts?"

Dreda nodded. "Of course. But you know Wen and I can't support the anti-Muggle stuff. I mean, I sympathise and I sort of agree overall, but it can't always be terrible to have Muggle blood can it? If it were true, then Rosa wouldn't be quite the smartest of all of us, would she? We didn't know until our second-year that her mother was a Muggle. You don't know how shocked I was because with a known Auror for an uncle we had never considered her parentage. Wendelin wanted to drop her, actually."

"Why didn't you?"

Dreda scoffed, "Drop Rosa? I would _never_ turn on a friend, not unless they betrayed me. It was obvious that our assumptions about half-bloods were somewhat in error because you can't be friends with someone like Rosa and not know that she's an amazing witch. Wendelin came round after a week or so and now she's even more protective of Rosa than I am."

Marcus looked surprised. "I would never have thought of Dawlish needing protection, Dreda. She's a fighter and very clever with her wand."

Dreda peered up at Marcus. "Not that sort of protection, Marcus. Although I suppose at the World Cup that is what I mean. I meant defending her to our families. You don't think that Daddy and Mother are pleased to have to associate with a Muggle, do you? Daddy had Mr and Mrs Dawlish to the house twice to please me. Mother made our elves wash the seats afterwards. Wendelin's father has never accepted Rosamunde and probably never will. That is why we three are always at my family's house."

Marcus considered one of the odd-shaped outgrowths from the shrubbery for a moment before answering, "Terrence is half-blood. His parents are both Muggle-born, but I never cared, frankly. I have never had many mates and he's been a very loyal one since we ended up in the train together first-year. My father never said anything, but then Terrence's father is the head of the International Magical Office of Law, so my father would approve of the connexion enough to ignore Terrence's parentage."

Dreda sighed. "Yes, that is how it is. So Rosa's mother is on her silly, Muggle war path and not helping Rosa in the least. Wendelin's father is actually rather pleased with Wen in a way, but still doesn't want her to go completely bad. Wen's mother is in a dead panic about it and she's got my mother so fussed that now Daddy is involved. Not that Daddy needed anything more to worry over with Will and Eldred being so in trouble. But now Father has said that he is going to do something about Wen when he gets back from Crete."

Marcus finally decided that Dreda had calmed down enough that it would be safe to try to comfort her. He placed a hand on her back and moved a little closer as he said, "It sounds as if they are all in a panic, Dreda. Your two cousins, your brothers, and Wendelin all having caused trouble and Dawlish's family making such a noise. The Ministry aren't involved at all, I assume?"

Dreda leant her head onto Marcus' shoulder and said, "No. They haven't even spoken to us. I don't think that they have any idea that the Burkes or the Yaxleys were responsible for anything that night. Uncle Edmond Obliviated all of the Muggleborns they were assaulting. Of course you saw that my father Obliviated Jonathan, Norbert, and Dom as well as those two Stunned wizards who might have seen what Wendelin did. Naturally the Death Eater won't say anything to the Ministry and it can't hurt the family for him to talk about Wendelin to his colleagues, can it?"

Marcus could smell the sweet, floral scent of Dreda's hair as he began to stroke it lightly. "I was surprised that he didn't try to Obliviate me, too."

Dreda shook her head. "No, Daddy said yesterday that he was impressed with you after seeing how you handled yourself that night. Nothing wins Daddy's respect faster than a wizard who can effectively protect his own with his wand. When Daddy was working on cleaning up Wen's mess you were sort of amazing what you did to keep everyone off."

If Dreda had been able to see his face, she would have seen that Marcus looked as if he had been handed a prize, but he only said, "You weren't any shrinking violet, love. You have a very sharp downstroke."

Dreda shrugged. "I can handle my wand, of course. But what am I going to do, Marcus? It seems like everything has gone wrong at once."

Marcus had no idea what to answer her. "Well, I suppose there isn't much you can do right now, Dreda. Your brothers are safe – there aren't Hit Wizards out looking for them or anything. Your father Obliviated Bradley and the others, so no one at school will hear about what Burke did. Dawlish's father won't let her mother keep her from school, so you'll see her there shortly."

Dreda did not respond for a little while as Marcus kissed the top of her head and held her closely to him. Finally Marcus felt her move as she turned her head up to look at him. "But you won't be there, Marcus."

"I know. I've been dreading the day you return since we left school."

Dreda took a deep breath and said, "I didn't realise just how much I care for you, Marcus, not until the other night. Everything just changed all at once."

Marcus cleared his throat twice before responding, "I know what you mean. I have loved you for almost a year, Dreda, but that night it was different. I wanted to kill that witch that was tearing at your cloak and if anyone had tried again to harm you then I would have destroyed them without a thought about consequences."

Dreda said carefully, "It wasn't just fear that made me realise it though, Marcus. It started when you first came over to the campsite. Everything afterwards just made it real."

Placing his hands on Dreda's shoulders, Marcus moved her so that they were facing each other. "Do you feel that way now, Dreda?"

Dreda nodded. "Yes."

Marcus stared at Dreda for a moment before asking, "Do you think that you will this next year? Are we still going to be together when you are back at school?"

Dreda said abruptly, "Marcus, I love you."

Utterly gobsmacked, Marcus did not speak for several moments before he blurted in a very strange voice, "Dreda, say you will marry me."

Dreda looked at him in some confusion, "What?"

Marcus rubbed his hand over his face and said thickly, "I know that it is too early to ask you, Dreda, but I want you to marry me."

Dreda stared at Marcus as she replied, "Not until I finish school."

Marcus jerked forward and picked up Dreda's hand. "But you will? Once you have finished school you will marry me?"

Dreda's breath caught in her throat as Marcus lifted her hand to his lips. Looking at him with surprise, Dreda answered solemnly, "Yes, I will."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter** **14**

Marcus sank with relief into the bench across from his friend with a groan of exhaustion. As he closed his eyes and leant back into the cushion, Terrence Higgs asked with concern, "That bad?"

"Yes and no. I got what I wanted."

Terrence raised his eyebrows sharply, "Yaxley actually agreed to let you marry his precious daughter? What did you have to promise him, Marcus?"

Marcus opened his eyes and looked at his friend whilst he rubbed his shoulder with noticeably bruised fingers. "Dreda must have worked on him, Terrence. There is nothing that I could have promised that would have made me worthy in Hunwald Yaxley's eyes. As it is I only had to agree to take a vow of loyalty to the Yaxley family, undergo a Fidelity Charm to Dreda as part of the marriage, and submit to Mens Rasura before the wedding."

Terrence stared at Marcus with his mouth gaping for a moment before he asked with disbelief, "Mens Rasura? For the purpose of looping?"

Marcus sighed and responded sourly, "Probably. He's already seen everything there is to see when he walked through my mind today. No defence at all I had, or warning. So he knows whatever it was he was looking to find. He probably intends to loop some memory I have of Dreda so I would literally be unable to forget her."

Terrence looked horrified. "Marcus, what are you doing, mate? Do you see how mad it is to want to marry into this family? They are well connected, but they're insane. Your prospective father-in-law put you under Legilmency today and is talking of _Mens Rasura_ later. Think about how bad this is going to get, Marcus."

Marcus stopped massaging his arm and replied angrily, "I know, Terrence. I'm not so thick that I can't see what I've got myself into here. I have known from the start that her family is a nightmare. I've been playing Quidditch with her brothers since the days we only had training brooms. But I will pay the cost, whatever it takes to get her. Not that I'll actually undergo Mens Rasura without a serious fight though."

Terrence looked away towards the empty bar where the stooped barman was slowly polishing a glass as he watched them warily. "You still want this, even knowing that these demands won't be the end of it? They'll make it as hard for you as possible. Eldred Yaxley wanted one of his mates for Dreda, you know. He told me."

Marcus glared at his friend and said viciously, "Right, that Russian from Durmstrang. Well he won't get her."

Terrence laughed mirthlessly, "No, it looks like he won't. But are you sure that you will?"

Marcus banged his fist on the table and answered, "Yes. What are you trying to say about Dreda?"

Terrence raised his eyebrows as he responded harshly, "Don't take this out on me, you pathetic sod. I'm trying to look out for your interests, because it is clear to me that you're too drunk with love to have any brains left in your thick head."

Marcus growled as he shoved the table into Terrence and spat out, "Oh am I?"

The barman was now standing beside their table, looking very uneasily at the two young wizards, one in robes that proclaimed him an employee of the Ministry of Magic and the other wearing a badge that designated him a member of the Falmouth Falcons Quidditch Club. Clearly deciding that he should not toss out two possibly well-connected young men, the barman stuttered nervously, "Erm, young sirs, if you would please keep the noise down? This is quite a respectable bar and I should like to keep it that way."

Marcus glared at the barman and mockingly sneered, "What sort of respectable bar doesn't even serve its customers? I've been here ten minutes and no one has come over. Why don't you toddle off and bring over a glass of red bitters, alright?"

The barman bowed and quickly hurried to the bar as Marcus turned back to Terrence. Marcus waved his hand and said roughly, "Never mind, mate."

Terrence pushed the table back into place with a hard look at Marcus, "Never mind what?"

"I mean you're right. I'm completely out of my head."

Terrence slapped a small silver case down on the table and replied with tightly clenched teeth, "You mean you're a fool."

Marcus shrugged and gestured with his head at the case under Terrence's hand. "Not as much as you are if you got on to that stuff, Terrence."

Terrence flicked his finger at the silver case on the table and answered disparagingly, "I only took it up to shock my colleagues at work, but I have found myself using more. I should quit."

Marcus made a face that signified that what Terrence had said was excessively obvious. "How is work, actually? You haven't said much since you first started."

Terrence put his case away without using it and replied, "You know, outside of Quidditch I've never had so much fun, really. Obviously you remember how I felt when Father set this job up for me, but now it is brilliant. I just sit round all day making up lies that Muggles will believe."

Marcus laughed loudly as he snatched up the large glass of dark red bitters that the barman had just placed on the table and he sneered, "Muggle-worthy excuses."

Terrence Higgs snorted. "Right you are. The most amazing thing, Marcus, is that I'm the only one on the Muggle-Worthy Excuses Committee who has any Muggle relatives. Not that I have seen any of them but Jack since before I went to Hogwarts. My father, of course, prefers to forget such inconvenient, embarrassing things as his and Mum's families. But the ideas that some of these lot think that Muggles would believe is ludicrous."

Marcus sniggered, "But Muggles actually will believe almost anything if it comes from an official looking pronouncement."

Terrence laughed. "True. Muggle Studies at Hogwarts was a complete joke, of course, and a few of my colleagues seem to have no more idea of the Muggle world than they learnt from a book."

Marcus asked curiously, "Does your father know that you still see your cousin?"

Terrence shook his head. "No. Mum would have my liver if she knew, too."

Marcus shrugged. He knew very little about Terrence's Muggle cousin Jack, except that he was a tough, who had recently joined the Royal Marines in hopes of satisfying a natural taste for violence.

Both wizards sat silently drinking for a few minutes before Terrence said gruffly, "I heard that the Burke brothers were packed off to Spain or somewhere."

Marcus nodded. "Portugal. The wizard they attacked has lost the ability to lift one of his arms."

Terrence grunted. "Shouldn't have done anything permanent. That was stupid."

Marcus shrugged. "They are both dim-witted trolls. I've always disliked them."

"True, all of us did, although Cary Burke was a disgustingly good Beater, which made up for a lot."

Finishing the rest of his drink with a long draught, Marcus answered, "Yes it did. That was what made me willing to keep Theseus on the team his last year when the older Bulstrode would have made a much better Beater."

"But Sylvester Bulstrode was denser than a Bundimun. I don't remember any other Beater we had that hit himself in the head with the bat – even if it was because he'd lost his grip on the bat. The only thing to choose between the Bulstrodes and the Burkes is that the Burkes are dirty fighters, which came in useful on the pitch a few times."

Marcus waved to the barman, who had been trying to hide at the far end of the bar, and replied, "They are a nasty lot."

"Into which you are choosing to marry."

Marcus lifted an eyebrow as he said, "Making you and everyone else wonder where I've left my head, I know. Come on; let's drink until we need help finding the Floo powder. I feel like I need it."

Terrence lifted his glass and said, "Bring it on, mate."

* * *

Dreda huddled on the ottoman of her father's chair, watching as he paced the floor between the table with the large copper Augurey cage and the wide stone fireplace. He had been reading a very long owl for almost ten minutes and had not yet spoken, but Dreda knew that whatever it said was not good. 

As Hunwald passed in front of the fire again, he said suddenly, "Get down my bottle of L'Armagnac Noir, Dreda. I think I'm going to have a goblet or two."

Dreda hopped up from the chair and, avoiding the mat where her father's Runespoor was coiled, crossed the floor to a large mahogany cupboard with leaded green glass fronts. Pointing her wand at a footstool that was set against the wall, she directed the stool to slide in front of her so that she could reach the high shelf. As soon as she had opened the cupboard door, however, Hunwald asked, "Did you want a small goblet of Aphigorial, pet?"

Dreda responded eagerly, "Yes, please. May I?"

Hunwald smiled. "I brought back two bottles with me from Crete for you. But I think we'll ration them a bit, don't you?"

Dreda laughed. "I know, not four goblets altogether like that one time. But I was eight, Daddy."

Hunwald looked fondly at his daughter. "I remember, but even drugged full of Aphigorial Nectar you were perfectly precious. Twirling round and round as you sang."

Dreda rolled her eyes. "Well I think I was lucky that you didn't do worse than scold me for drinking 100 galleons worth of nectar that you'd bought for Mother."

Hunwald shook his head. "If it was four large goblets, pet, which I think it was, then it was closer to 200 galleons worth. I think your Mother was much angrier than me. I felt it 200 galleons well spent – you were giddier and happier than I have ever seen you."

Dreda laughed as she hopped down from the stool with a tall, slender black bottle in one hand and a heavy silver goblet in the other. "Well, only a small goblet today."

Hunwald ran his hand affectionately along his daughter's head. "If it would take away that sad look I've been seeing too often on your face these last few days then I'd let you have a large goblet."

Dreda bit her lip. "No, sir. I don't think that even Aphigorial Nectar could do that."

Hunwald took the goblet full of l'Armagnac Noir de Limousin that his daughter handed him and said seriously, "I hate seeing you so unhappy, little one. I had hoped that your engagement would solve some of that."

Dreda turned to close the cupboard door. "No, Daddy. I am happy, very happy, about my engagement. You know that. But I'm still worried about Will and Eldred and about Wendelin."

Hunwald stood looking at his daughter for a moment before saying, "Look over in my Encache box, pet. You'll find the Aphigorial in there."

As Dreda went to her father's desk and ran her wand along the edge of the box in a complex series of hops and taps, Hunwald reopened the cupboard to get down a small gilded goblet with a large E engraved on the side. "You will understand eventually why I had to send your brothers away immediately, Etheldreda. What went on at the World Cup finals was quite unspeakably foolish. Many of the wizards involved were men that I have long respected, so you can imagine my astonishment. Your uncle has had far too much influence on your brothers in the last few years. Your brothers took a shocking risk to have participated that night. I might have expected no less from your cousins Theseus and Icarus, but I did think better of my own sons."

Dreda handed the bottle of Aphigorial Nectar to her father and said softly, "I know. I expected so much better of them, too. You know, Wilfred told me only a month ago that he was finding himself less and less impressed with Uncle Edmond's ideas."

Hunwald snorted. "I think that there was an outside reason for that, pet."

Dreda looked at her father curiously, "Oh was I right about that then?"

Hunwald laughed, but said severely, "Yes, I think so, but that isn't going to go anywhere, Dreda, so don't get any ideas."

Dreda shook her head. "No, I'm not. Daddy, what about Wen? What are you going to do?"

Hunwald pointed to the ottoman next to his chair and Dreda moved to sit down at the same time that he did. "Well, you know that I took Wendelin with me yesterday. Wendelin has gone too far without enough supervision and she needs to see what she is really choosing if she allows the Dark Arts rule her magic. I took her to see a witch I used to know when you were very young."

Dreda gasped, "You took her to see that witch, that one you…I mean, never mind."

Hunwald's eyes searched his daughter's face for a moment and then he said with horror, "How can you possibly remember that, Etheldreda?"

Dreda looked down into the frothy yellow liquid in her goblet. "I…I don't really. I know you must have Obliviated me because all I remember is an old brown cottage that smelt of peat and dead birds and something about a row but nothing beyond that. I can't remember the rest except when I was near the Dementors in the Hogwarts Express I saw a witch screaming as you cursed her and somehow I know it was that woman."

Hunwald cursed loudly and slammed down his silver goblet. "You should never have seen it. You were supposed to be playing in the garden, waiting for me. Of course I Obliviated you. Bloody Dementors, bloody hell."

Dreda placed her hand soothingly on her father's arm. "I don't really remember, Daddy. I don't doubt that you had every reason to curse her and if she is as horrid as I think she was then she was a good person for Wendelin to see."

Hunwald shook his head and cupped his daughter's cheek with his hand, "Dreda, my little one, I am so sorry."

"Really Daddy, I know what sorts of things you have done. I'm not shocked."

Hunwald continued to shake his head. "That witch, Heinga Rothbotham, was a supplier of mine at one time. She sold something for which I had already paid, that I very definitely needed, to someone else."

"I assumed it had been something like that, Daddy."

Hunwald continued, "She began experimenting not long after that with deeper blood magic. She eventually went insane, of course, which is why she now lives in the long-term resident ward at St Mungo's."

Dreda let out a long breath and then said, "How did Wendelin take it?"

Hunwald picked up his daughter's hand in his own. "Very poorly. But then we had already been two other places and talked with your Great-aunt Lysandra, so I think that Wendelin was already somewhat overwhelmed."

Dreda nodded her head silently.

"Pet, I wish you had not seen so many of the things that you have. I should have shielded you better from some of my doings. I haven't been quite the father that I ought to have been, I suspect."

Dreda gripped her father's hand and replied earnestly, "If it weren't for you I wouldn't have got to learn about half the things I have. I wouldn't change anything, Daddy, really I wouldn't."

Once again placing his hand on his daughter's cheek, Hunwald said solemnly, "You are quite an amazing young witch, little one. Your mother has been very concerned that perhaps you, like your cousin Wendelin, have been delving too deeply into magic that you are not yet ready to understand. I have been reassuring her that this is not so. Can you tell me that I have been right?"

Dreda turned very serious brown eyes on her father and responded, "Yes, Daddy. I have been learning about some very challenging, dangerous things, of course, but not without Professor Lupin's guidance. I have been careful and I have been begging Wendelin to be more careful for some time."

"You haven't, for example, begun experimenting with Puria or trying shadow casts?"

"No, I really haven't. I know that you will show me how to use Xulopurian magic when I am ready."

Hunwald nodded, but asked very seriously, "This werewolf, you are sure he was not abusing his position or misleading you?"

Dreda shook her head, "I sussed that he was a werewolf not long after Christmas. But he was an amazing teacher and extraordinarily knowledgeable. I don't think that I could have had a better tutor to help me prepare for the examination."

Hunwald laughed shortly and then said gravely, "You are a remarkable witch, my clever girl. Drink up, pet. Your nectar will start its potency fade if you don't drink it soon.""

Dreda took a very long sip from her goblet and then a second one before she asked, "Was that owl you were reading about Eldred and Will?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter** **15**

The train compartment was almost completely silent, except for the occasional noise made by one of the animals in the four cages that were laid on the floor, or a rustle of a page being turned. Jonathan was the only inhabitant of the train compartment who was not reading or at least pretending to do so. Since Wendelin and Norbert had returned from the Prefects' carriage, there had been no further attempts at conversation by anyone.

As he stared out the window of the train, wondering if the rest of the term were going to be this awkward, Jonathan allowed himself to glance at the faint reflection of Dreda in the corner of the glass. She had already changed into her school robes and seemed to be entirely engrossed in her book, which he could see was not in English. Her long black hair was tied back tightly and the expression on her face was uncompromising.

Jonathan had spent much of the summer working to cure himself of his infatuation with Dreda. He had been rather hopeful that he had been successful…until he had seen the very large ring on Dreda's left hand that morning. But if he didn't want this year to be as miserable as the one before, he still had to move on.

Jonathan looked round at his friends once more and then stood up from his seat. "I'll look in later. I'm going to go and search for Hestia."

Five curious faces looked up at him from their books, but only Dom asked, "Who is Hestia?"

Jonathan avoided looking at any of the girls and explained stiffly, "Hestia Morrison. She's a fifth-year I met this summer in Cornwall. I think I saw her a few carriages back."

Wendelin nodded. "Right, she should be in with Waldhilda. They are two compartments back."

Dom and Jonathan both asked, "Who?"

Wendelin rolled her eyes, "Hilda, my sister. Remember? She is a fifth-year Hufflepuff - the same as Hestia."

Jonathan nodded. "Ah, right, well I'll be back in later."

After watching Jonathan make his escape, Dom looked over at Wendelin, who had barely spoken to him except to thank him for managing her trunk. He knew that something was wrong and had been since the day of the World Cup final, but Wendelin's family had not allowed her to do anything more than to write him one very short owl since that day. It was clear to him that Wendelin had no desire to speak with him today either.

Therefore Dom was regretting having come to sit with Wendelin and her friends. His Quidditch mates were six or so carriages back and would at least be happy to talk to him. He and Wendelin could sort out their issues when they could have more privacy. He would like, for example, to find out what Marcus Flint had meant when he had implied something about Wendelin using Dark magic. That was almost the last thing that he remembered from that night at the World Cup before waking up on the floor of the woods feeling confused and disoriented.

Dom stood up from his seat and without a word pushed open the door to the compartment and stepped out into the corridor.

Norbert cleared his throat and looked at Rosamunde, who was staring morosely out the window. "Does anyone want anything sweet? I think I might try to catch the trolley witch again."

Rosamunde faced Norbert and replied, "I don't think that the trolley witch sells anything during the last hour, Norbert."

Norbert paused with his hand on the door and said, "I suppose I'll find out then," before slipping out of the train compartment and letting the door bang behind him as he headed forward to the compartment where he had seen Harold Barbary and Euan MacDiarmid earlier.

Rosamunde turned to Wendelin and Dreda, both of whom had now set down their books, and said sarcastically as she got up from her seat, "Well that was brilliant. We've managed to run them all off."

As Rosamunde sat in one of the seats vacated by the boys, Wendelin closed the book in her lap and replied, "Are you going to leave, too?"

Rosamunde leant forward so she was almost out of her seat. "No, I won't make things that easy for you Wendelin Burke. We need to talk."

Wendelin shot up from her seat and exclaimed, "What do you mean by that?"

Dreda closed her own book and commanded, "Sit down, Wendelin. Rosamunde, you are out of order. No one here has done anything but look out for you."

Rosamunde started to respond, but Dreda said very clearly, "No, Rosamunde. And you sit, Wen. I'm not having us turn on each other now." As Wendelin slowly sat in her seat, looking fiercely at Rosamunde, Dreda asked, "Hand Wulfram's cage to me, will you Wen?"

Wendelin bent over, picked up the cage holding Dreda's Kneazle, and then shoved it into Dreda's hands.

As she opened the cage door and pulled out her Kneazle, Dreda said evenly, "This doesn't have to become a quarrel. Each of us has something to say."

Wendelin snorted and flopped back into the cushions. "Fine. Why doesn't Rosa start?"

Stroking her agitated Kneazle, Dreda replied, "First let me sort something that I think might be the problem." Dreda looked fixedly at Rosamunde and said, "You do know that both of us tried to contact you, don't you? Your mother wouldn't allow it."

Rosamunde's eyes darted to Wendelin and she asked sceptically, "Is that true?"

Wendelin gestured impatiently, "Yes. Your mother told both of our families that she would burn any owls that either Dreda or I sent you. And she must have done, because I sent one anyway."

Dreda added, "Even my brothers tried to send you an apology."

Rosamunde's eyes were filled with tears as she looked away from both Wendelin and Dreda. "I didn't know. Why would Mum do that to me?"

Wendelin asked incredulously, "Did you honestly believe that we wouldn't have written?"

Rosamunde hiccoughed as she tried to suppress her tears. "I don't know. I wrote you both a pile of owls and I never got anything back, so I started to wonder if you hadn't decided that it was time to drop the Mudblood now if your lot was starting the terror up again."

Wendelin gasped and Dreda said harshly, "Never, ever call yourself that again, Rosa. You are a _witch_."

Wendelin added sincerely, "Rosa, we are never going to drop you or turn on you or betray you. I don't care what happens. Didn't we prove that to you at the campsite?"

Dreda reached her hand across and touched Rosamunde's arm. "Rosa, no one is starting up the terror again. As soon as the Dark Mark was conjured all of the Death Eaters Disapparated. If they were starting things up again they would not have run when the Mark was cast, but congregated to it. Uncle Edmond says that no one knows who Conjured it."

Rosamunde considered this for a moment. "That makes sense actually. Although why would they all decide for no reason to have their nice Death Eater's reunion after almost thirteen years?"

Dreda looked at Wendelin, who sighed and explained, "It has been long enough that the old Death Eaters feel more secure in their anonymity and the children of Death Eaters are old enough now to want to take part in something. It wasn't just real Death Eaters that night, Rosa. There were a few dozen wizards like my brothers, as well. It was just a perfect opportunity for them."

Rosamunde looked at Dreda, who frowned. "Yes, my brothers, too."

Rosamunde turned away and began staring out the window again. "So Mum was right about that."

Dreda and Wendelin glanced uncomfortably at each other. Dreda finally said, "In a way. But she was wrong about them having been involved in any attack on you. I don't think they ever considered what would happen to you or any of us, really. They were too drunk to think about anything but taunting anyone who was blatantly Muggleborn."

Rosamunde said softly, "She forbade me from being friends with you at school. She thinks that you and your families are too dangerous."

Dreda set her Kneazle down and crossed to sit next to Rosamunde. "Rosa, I'm sorry about Wilfred and Eldred. They're both of them total prats."

Wendelin asked uncertainly, "What are you going to do about what your mother said?"

Rosamunde sniffed. "Nothing. She is out of her mind if she thinks she can tell me who my friends are."

Wendelin sighed. "Your mother is making it so easy for my parents to justify their prejudice, Rosa."

None of the girls said anything for several moments as they sat uncomfortably looking at each other. When Dreda got up to collect her Kneazle, who was energetically eating the corner of a seat, Rosamunde asked Wendelin. "They don't remember anything, do they? Dom and the other two, I mean?"

Wendelin pursed her lips together before answering, "No. I don't know how much Uncle Hunwald Obliviated them, but obviously they don't remember anything because they didn't run when they saw me."

After several more uncomfortable moments, Rosamunde said gloomily, "I'm not allowed to play Quidditch this year."

Dreda exclaimed, "What? How does that make sense?"

Rosamunde shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose that means I'll have more time to study for the NEWTs now though."

Wendelin pulled a face. "How unimportant do NEWTs seem to you two right now?"

Both Rosamunde and Dreda nodded their heads in agreement. Rosamunde drew out a packet of Droobles from her pocket and offered a piece to Dreda and Wendelin, who both declined. Her mouth full with chewing gum, Rosamunde asked, "Are you going to have private lessons again, Dreda?"

Dreda pulled her Kneazle away from Wendelin's sleeve and replied, "I don't know. Professor Snape is going to give me another project, of course, but he doesn't give lessons. Professor Flitwick has already sent in my final recommendation and has told me that he won't have sufficient time this year to do anything beyond give me a project. I don't know what Professor Vector or Professor Sinistra will do and we don't even know who the Defence teacher is going to be."

Rosamunde looked at Wendelin, "Do we know yet what she is on about with these recommendations?"

Wendelin laughed. "No, but there is one thing that you have failed to notice."

Rosamunde looked at Dreda and then back to Wendelin and raised a hand in a questioning gesture.

Wendelin said with a smirk, "Dreda has got engaged."

* * *

"Well I suppose it won't matter any longer that I'm not allowed to play Quidditch, will it?"

Dreda laughed. "No, I suppose not. The Triwizard Tournament! Who would ever have thought that they would revive that old tradition?"

Wendelin, who was busily digging through a pile of books on the common-room bookcase, said with interest, "Not I, but of course it would be fun to enter, wouldn't it?"

Rosamunde smiled broadly, "Of course I'm entering. How brilliant would it be to get selected?"

Dreda shook her head. "No, not at all. I have no desire to place myself voluntarily in mortal peril. Headmaster Dumbledore was not joking when he talked about the death toll in the past, Rosa. I'm quite sure the 'glory of the school' would be a lovely thing, but I can't afford any distractions this year."

Wendelin looked over her shoulder at Dreda. "You really wouldn't enter? I would have thought you would be one of the first to relish the challenge."

Dreda scoffed, "I like having four limbs that work properly, thank you. Not a chance. This year is going to be ever so important for me. I have to sit my examination in April and then the NEWTs in May."

Rosamunde snorted and glanced at Wendelin, who said, "I can't believe that Beauxbatons Academy will be here. Durmstrang students are one thing, but can you imagine having a gaggle of those prissy French witches clustering about the school? Eurgh. The French are the worst."

Dreda nodded. "Well yes, if you mean those like the Girardin sisters. Wilfred was hopeless about one of them for almost a year, but all she would do was laugh at him."

Rosamunde, who was happily munching on a large bar of Honeydukes', mumbled through the chocolate, "Do you reckon that you'll recognise any of the Durmstrang lot, Dreda?"

Dreda shrugged. "I don't know. I'm sure that nasty Poliakoff will be there. He's a total genius at magic but you remember him from when we went to the World Cup Semi-final for England, don't you?"

Wendelin looked back at Dreda and grimaced, "What, the one who looks like he never washes his hair and had a gigantic stain on the front of his cloak?"

Dreda nodded. "Yeah, that one. Of course most of Eldred and Will's mates will have graduated now, like they have. But I think Cherchenko was a sixth-year last year or maybe that was Terzyan. I'm not sure."

Wendelin turned back to the book she had been flipping through as she asked, "Don't Frieda and Griswold Gamp go to Durmstrang?"

Dreda pulled a face. "I forgot about them. I loathe Frieda. She is a spiteful slag."

Wendelin replied, "Well Griswold isn't so bad, is he? I thought he was rather fit last time I saw him. Actually, Frieda ought to have graduated, right?"

"I haven't any idea. Mother might like Mrs Gamp well enough, but Father doesn't get on with Mr Gamp at all so I haven't seen Frieda or Griswold in years."

Rosamunde asked curiously, "Are there many of your sort that sent their children to Durmstrang?"

Wendelin answered, "To a school where it is colder than an iceberg, the holidays are all different from ours, and the language of instruction is Old Slavonic? Are you serious?"

Dreda explained, "Durmstrang Institute teaches practical usage of the Dark Arts, Rosa, which _is_ appealing to 'our sort' as you call it. But there is quite a cost financially for students who are not part of the population Durmstrang is meant to serve. Most families can't afford it."

Wendelin exclaimed triumphantly, "Here! I knew there was something in one of these books. This one is about the Triwizard Tournament in 1792."

Both Dreda and Rosamunde hurried over and peered over Wendelin's shoulder. After a moment, as Wendelin turned the page all three girls cried, "Ohhhh!"

Her complexion having turned somewhat pale, Rosamunde commented further, "That really must have hurt."

* * *

As the owls circled the table and dropped various parcels and letters on the plates of the Ravenclaw students, Wendelin sang out, "She's got another looove letter."

Without reading the outside, Rosamunde picked up one of the letters that had dropped onto her own plate and sighed exaggeratedly, "Oh Wendelin, how I do miss my great hairy Quidditch player. Isn't he just amazing how he lumbers about on his broom and whacks people in the head with the Quaffle?"

Wendelin and Rosamunde laughed hysterically as Dreda ignored them both and opened the fat envelope that her owl had delivered. Wendelin looked over at Dom, who was trying not to laugh and she said seriously, "He only writes her once every day. Don't you think he is starting to neglect her?"

Winking at his girlfriend, Dom turned away with a smirk and started to talk to Jonathan, who seemed considerably less amused than everyone else. Dreda did not look up from her letter as she said sarcastically, "You are so right, Wen. Why it has been two entire days since he sent me a gift. Perhaps I should give back the ring?"

Wendelin snorted and picked up her copy of the Daily Prophet, responding, "But of course. You have a lot of owls today, Rosa."

Rosamunde, completely absorbed in reading, said only, "Uh-huh."

Norbert reached past Wendelin for a large chocolate pastry and asked, "Do you have any Self-Correcting Ink, Wendelin?"

Putting down her paper for a moment, Wendelin replied, "I don't think so. Dreda always has some though."

"In the left outer pocket, Norbert. But I need it back before tomorrow, since I have to finish the assignment for Arithmancy."

Mumbling, "Thanks," Norbert reached down to get Dreda's school bag.

Rosamunde angrily dropped the parchment she had been reading onto the table and said, "If you're going to cheat then why not just use an Auto-Answer Quill?"

His face bright red, Norbert stammered, "It isn't cheating, Rosamunde. Self-Correcting Ink only corrects spelling errors and when you've transversed numbers or something. It won't actually write essays for you or anything."

Rosamunde rolled her eyes as she began tearing her letter into very long strips. "I've always said it was cheating and I still think so."

Wendelin sharply replied, "And you've always been wrong about that. What are you doing to your letter? Is it another stinker from your mother?"

Rosamunde ground her teeth as she answered, "No. It doesn't matter. Isn't it time to go to class?"


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"Professor Moody acted very strangely in class today, didn't he?"

Dreda looked at Wendelin and replied curtly, "He is always odd."

Rosamunde observed sardonically, "You just don't like him because he made that comment about the Yaxley family on the first day of class."

Dreda agreed with a bored lift of her shoulders. "True, but my opinion is not entirely due to that. He has refused to even suggest a booklist to help me study. You would have thought a retired auror would be interested in helping. He's awfully rude, isn't he?"

Wendelin asked again, "But he was odder than normal, wasn't he? He asked me all those questions about shadow casts. We're not meant to know about all that when we're still students."

Rosamunde replied, "But of course you do know about it and have done for years. I don't think that Professor Moody is a fool, Wen. He knows that many of us have much more knowledge than we learnt in class and he is pressing us beyond curriculum. I think it is refreshing."

Dreda added with distaste, "He has shown every year what the Unforgivables look like when performed -even the first years. I think that is a little excessive, although I do see his point."

Wendelin nodded. "I was glad that he didn't select me as one of the students who had to try to throw off the Imperius curse. Hilda said he did that for the fifth years, too. I think that's shocking – casting it on students that young."

Dreda said, "Well, yes, but my father taught my brothers to overcome the Imperius when they were 10."

Wendelin looked surprised. "Did he? But he didn't teach you?"

Dreda shrugged, "Not until I was 14. But it took longer than for Will and Eldred, since Father wasn't willing to command me to do anything really unpleasant so my will to refuse wasn't as strong."

Rosamunde groaned, "Unforgivables on your own children!"

Wendelin looked somewhat unenthusiastic as well, but replied, "You have to admit that it is a practical piece of knowledge, however. Knowing how to refuse the Imperius curse, I mean."

Rosamunde scoffed, "I'll pass, thank you. You know, I can't believe that Jonathan is seeing that Hufflepuff. She's just ugly."

Dreda looked surprised, "I don't think she is ugly. She is rather plain, perhaps, but Wen's sister says that she is very nice. I would like to see Jonathan happy."

Rosamunde pouted and rejoined plaintively, "But how could he be interested in a Hufflepuff?"

Wendelin scrutinised Rosamunde carefully, "Not all Hufflepuffs are dim, you know. Hilda might be a little thick at times, but then she's my sister so I'm likely to think so."

Rosamunde got up from her bed and walked over to the window. "Sisters are such a hassle. I don't know how you manage with three of them. Mum has got Violetta in a total panic about Egmont after the incident at the World Cup. Violetta has been trying to convince Hilliard to take them into France for the baby's safety. Surprisingly Hilliard has been showing a backbone about it and has told Violetta that she's being absurd and that Egmont is perfectly safe down in Wales."

Dreda asked, "How much older than you is she again?"

"Five years."

Dreda said softly, "That means that she would remember being in hiding much better than you do. You can see why she is afraid, even if she is being a little ridiculous about it."

Rosamunde shrugged. "You think I don't remember not being allowed to leave the house _ever_ or my mother being convinced that everyone who looked at us in the streets wanted to kill us because she was a muggle?"

Wendelin shook her head. "We know, Rosa."

Rosamunde began to pace the floor until Dreda looked helplessly at Wendelin and gestured for Wendelin to do something. Wendelin finally asked feebly, "Do you want to talk more about it?"

Rosamunde said only, "What? No, no, I know that I shouldn't care who he is dating."

Wendelin turned back and mouthed, "What??" to Dreda, who indicated that she didn't understand either.

Wendelin asked at last, "Why are you so upset about Jonathan, Rosa? Do you really dislike her so much? He can't be supposed to pine over Dreda forever."

Rosamunde turned on her heel and said forcefully, "I don't want him to linger over Dreda. I never did. All those years and all he ever looked at was Dreda, who couldn't have cared less about him.

Both Wendelin and Dreda were staring at Rosamunde with expressions of shock on their faces.

Rosamunde laughed unhappily, "So I really was that good at hiding it? At least I know that no one has been laughing at me behind my back."

Dreda was the first to find her voice. "But why didn't you tell us? You didn't have to hide it from us, Rosamunde."

Rosamunde glared fiercely at Dreda. "What would you have done? I didn't want pity."

Wendelin looked as if she were going to cry and did not speak as she continued to watch Rosamunde.

Dreda shook her head. "I would have put a stop to him asking you for help with me, at least."

Rosamunde laughed again, this time more sourly than before. "I always knew that you would. I just had to get past my feelings on my own. I never thought that I would really. But then suddenly this summer I discovered that Jonathan meant nothing anymore. I had replaced him with a wizard who was an even worse choice."

Wendelin started to speak and then seemed to lose her way, so she looked to Dreda for help.

Dreda thoughtfully chewed her fingernail before asking gently, "When was that Rosa?"

Rosamunde turned to Dreda and harshly began to laugh once more as tears began to streak down her face. "It doesn't matter, because I can't have this wizard either. Truly I've traded bad for worse. And just think of poor, poor Harold. He was so kind and all I ever did was walk all over him, not care a toss for him, and then pine after other wizards. I don't think I'll ever get this love thing right."

Wendelin sat down on the arm of Rosamunde's chair and leant her head against Rosamunde's. "Yes you will. Eventually it will work out, Rosa."

* * *

"I am glad it is you and not me who is a prefect, Wen. I couldn't deal with all the tetchy little ones - like that homesick first year who was trying to floo home to his parents last night. You are very good with them." 

Wendelin turned to look at Dom, who was smiling at her in the way that always made her ears turn red. "I remember being that homesick, Dom, don't you?"

Dom nodded. "Of course. But I would have died first rather than let anyone else know it. I imagine that all of my mates were as miserable as I was, but none of us said anything. I used to read my little brother's letters twice in a row, just wishing I was back at home with him."

Wendelin smiled, "I was so thrilled to be coming to school, since Theseus and Icarus were already here. I imagined us being together all the time like it was when they were home. They didn't speak to me for a week after I was sorted into Ravenclaw though, stupid clots. That was the only time that I got homesick for Hilda, Gerda, and Trada, who I have never been close to at all."

Dom looked sideways at his girlfriend before he asked, "You still aren't, are you? I never see you talking to them."

Wendelin agreed, "It is odd. I would do anything for them, of course, but they are so completely different from me, Dom. They are all like each other – very sweet and nice girls, but not terribly interested in anything besides gossip, their friends, and wizards. They don't care at all about school for the sake of learning."

Dom waited for a moment before asking, "You are close to your brothers, aren't you?"

Wendelin took a deep breath before answering, "Yes, in a way. Although these last two years they have made very different decisions from me. Cary and I used to be very close as children. He's only two years older and he would try to teach me how to do everything that he could. Thes…I suppose that extra year in age made enough of a difference at times. He was never as interested in me as Cary, but when the other girls came along we three banded together against the Hufflepuff front." Wendelin smiled up at Dom from where she sat on the slightly damp grass and joked, "They were _always_ Hufflepuffs, Dom. From birth."

Dom smiled slightly, but seemed to want to ask something further. He reached out and grabbed Wendelin's hand and looked out over the lake in the fading sunlight. "I know that something happened that night, Wendelin. I know that I was Obliviated. I want you to tell me what it was."

Wendelin's smile vanished and she pulled her hand free of Dom's grasp. "A lot of people were Obliviated."

Dom spoke seriously without any trace of a smile, "Yes, but you weren't. I know something happened because you have acted very odd since then. I have tried to work out what it must have been, but I don't have enough information to sort it out. Did someone do something to you? Did I not protect you and you are disappointed in me?"

Wendelin said very softly, "You tried to protect me several times, Dom, but I pushed you off. You didn't do anything wrong."

Dom asked again, "So what did happen? I really do need to know, Wen."

Wendelin sighed and looked away from him at the reflection across the lake. "I didn't want you to protect me, Dom, because I felt that I could protect myself. I have trained myself for quite some time to be proficient at self-defence and duelling."

Dom narrowed his eyes and said, "I know all about that, Wen. I've known for months about the books you check out from the library. I hoped that you would get over your fascination with reading about darker magic before you actually started trying to practise it. I suppose that was foolish of me."

Wendelin faced Dom and replied, "I have been practising it for over a year."

Dom pressed his lips together and stared at Wendelin for some time before answering, "So you really used Dark magic that night?"

Wendelin nodded. "I had to protect Rosa. There was a Death Eater and he saw Rosa's muggle watch. I couldn't take the chance that he would really hurt her, so I attacked him instead."

Dom's shoulders dropped as he turned away and stared at a couple that was walking towards them hand in hand. After almost a minute of silence, Wendelin said nervously, "If you want to know exactly what happened then I will tell you."

"No. What I want you to tell me is whether this is going to be the future. Can I expect you to continue using the Dark arts, Wendelin? Is this who you really are?"

Wendelin spoke uncertainly, "I don't know what to say, Dom. I mean, yes, to some degree I will use more dangerous magic when I feel that it is necessary. There is just so much more power there, Dom. Some things just don't make sense to be done any other way. But I am no Dark sorceress, Dom. I don't hurt people or take things from them by force. All I want to do is protect myself and those I care about."

Dom shook his head as if trying to clear his mind of a fog and then stood up jerkily from the ground. He waited for Wendelin to stand and then said awkwardly, "I can't support that, Wen. I can't. I just don't think that there is any justification for using the Dark arts. I have been so afraid that this was where things were leading."

Wendelin looked somewhat panicked as she asked, "You don't want to be together any more?"

Dom took a deep breath and answered, "I…I…yes, I still want to be with you, Wendelin, but I can't stay in a relationship with you if this is where you are headed. I don't know what to say."

"It isn't reasonable to ask me to give up on all of that, Dom. Some of what you might consider 'Dark magic' is commonplace in my home."

Dom stood very stiffly and looked as if he did not know exactly what to say, but he responded with embarrassment, "I understand that, Wen, and I see why you might think that would be alright since you grew up with it. But I cannot agree."

Wendelin reached out her hand and touched Dom's sleeve, "I might be willing to make a compromise, Dom, but I won't promise never to use it again. When I have my own home I will protect it using the strongest spells that I know."

Dom nodded gravely and replied, "One of the things that I have always liked about you, Wendelin, is that you are very strong. I like that you don't need me to protect you, even though I still want to. I am not going to ask you to compromise because if you don't agree with me then you will eventually break the bargain. Do you think that if we took a few days to think about this that it would make any difference?"

Wendelin shook her head. "No. You are as determined in your opinion as I am, I think."

Dom's expression became very taught and he closed his eyes as he said, "Perhaps you are right."

Wendelin sighed and said, "I suppose that is it then, Dom."

Dom's eyes darted to Wendelin's face. "Why don't we take that time anyway?"

Wendelin shrugged, "Why? I cannot see my feelings changing."

Dom looked at Wendelin. "That is just it. My feelings aren't going to change, Wen. I'm never going to stop thinking about you."

Wendelin's brows drew together and she replied, "I meant that I wouldn't change my mind about how I protect those I love."

"I know what you meant and you know what I meant, too. But obviously you don't want to talk about it."

Wendelin looked peculiarly at Dom and asked, "Can _you_ make compromises, Dom?"

Dom's complexion was almost grey as he finally answered, "What you say about protecting your family, Wendelin, that sounds reasonable. But how far would do you take it? Do you set up protection wards and then leave it at that? Or do you keep adding more and more until eventually you are placing the Sanguine charm on your children whenever they leave the house? It isn't so simple, Wendelin. I can live with one, but not with the other."

Wendelin frowned heavily. "I don't actually know the answer to that, Dom."

"I think you might agree to a compromise, but in time the lure of greater 'protection' would pull you back into the Dark arts. Unless you genuinely decide to limit your own use of Dark magic to a safe level – not for me but for yourself – then there is no hope of working out a compromise. But to answer your question Wen, yes, I can and would make quite a heavy compromise for you. But there is a line that I won't cross."

Wendelin breathed out slowly and after a pause replied, "You are right. I have to think about it, I suppose."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Dreda looked up from the long parchment that she had been reading and reached for a third piece of toast. "Eldred wants me to 'welcome' his mates. They _would_ be amongst the ones selected to come from Durmstrang."

Wendelin took a long sip of pumpkin juice and replied, "Well actually they would though. Eldred and Wilfred were the top students in their house last year, so would you expect their mates not to be as qualified as they would have been?"

Dreda continued to spread a large amount of gooseberry jam over her toast as she answered, "No, I do understand that, but Poliakoff is disgusting. I don't want to have to be nice to him. He is the sort of wizard that I would normally ignore without a thought. But Eldred is asking me to actually take both Poliakoff and Cherchenko about."

Rosamunde grimaced, "Won't do loads for our reputations, that won't."

Wendelin added, "Well Poliakoff, no, but wasn't Cherchenko also one of the ones we saw at the match with Spain? He was decent enough to look at even if he spoke seven words of English. I didn't see him last night though."

Dreda nodded. "I think Cherchenko was sitting next to that girl with the nose last night. And yes, he was at the match, as well as Terzyan, Marchuk, and the Polish one. What was his name…Siwiec, I think. Luckily they've all graduated. Marchuk really did think he was special, what with his uncle being in the muggle government of Estonia or wherever. As if that actually mattered to anyone.

Wendelin corrected her, "Ukraine, and honestly I think it was just his way of compensating for having such a prominent muggle relative. Not as if he can help but admit he's half-blood when that is the case and you know how that matters at Durmstrang."

Rosamunde looked uncomfortably at her two friends and asked, "Is Hogwarts the only school that takes us?"

Dreda looked surprised. "No, all of the smaller schools do. Honestly, every family has some muggle blood somewhere, so you wouldn't have many students if you didn't have half-bloods. But it is harder for half-bloods to get into Durmstrang without extra money or good connexions and I think Beauxbatons is the same way, but I'm not entirely sure."

Wendelin snatched the last rasher of bacon as she said, "Well I doubt that Eldred and Will's mates will really want to hang about with a bunch of girls that they don't know. They'll have their own friends already. I imagine that Eldred really just means for you to wave at them in the halls and make a vague offer to show them the school grounds if they really care about that sort of thing."

Rosamunde turned to Dreda and asked quietly, "Would you mind if I didn't come along with you to talk to them? I don't really think that I would feel very comfortable."

Dreda frowned, "Well, of course you don't have to come along. But we didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Rosa. That is how Durmstrang is, but not how we feel."

Rosamunde pressed the two owls that she had received into her bag and answered, "I know. But I would really rather not."

Wendelin picked up her bag from the floor. "Well if Rosa doesn't want to talk to them then I won't either. You can make Eldred happy if you just say hello the once and then that will be the end of it."

Rosamunde looked uncomfortable and said, "You don't have to not go because of me. Dreda won't want to have to talk to that lot alone, Wen."

Dreda shook her head. "No, it's fine. I don't really mind talking to them alone. I have met them before and they would all be too afraid of Eldred and Will to be unpleasant to me anyway."

Rosamunde looked over at the Slytherin table, but the Durmstrang students had already left. Peering down to the end of table, which had recently been vacated by the Beauxbatons students, Rosamunde commented, "The French witches _would_ sit at our table, wouldn't they?"

Wendelin snorted. "Exactly. The haughty brunette with curls, she quite liked you, Dreda."

Dreda laughed. "Only because I could speak French. She is too full of herself and wouldn't you know it, but she knows the Girardin sisters quite well. I am looking forward to writing Wilfred about that."

All three friends stood up from the table and started to leave. As it was only a few minutes to class, several students from Gryffindor and Slytherin reached the door before them and were scuffling to exit, so as she waited Dreda ran her fingers through her long hair and began to prepare herself to answer the questions she expected Professor Vector would ask during the lecture. However, as the last Slytherin placed his hand on the door to leave, he turned to Dreda and said in a deep voice, "Hello Yaxley."

Dreda looked up with surprise into the face of Montague, who she knew had played quidditch with Marcus the year before. "Oh, hello."

The Slytherin held the door for her and her friends and then said gruffly, "I was asked to hand this to you."

Dreda took the piece of parchment from Montague with surprise as the Slytherin openly stared at the deep red jewel on her hand. "Erm, thanks."

"Right, see you round."

Dreda shrugged at Wendelin, who was waiting impatiently for her to exit so that they could go to class. "Did Rosa already run off to Magical Creatures?"

Wendelin nodded. "Yes. We're going to be late. What did Montague want?"

Dreda held up the parchment, which she had yet to open.

"Well?"

Dreda fell into step beside Wendelin as they hurried to class and opened the roll of grey parchment and replied unhappily, "Oh. Cherchenko is asking to meet me."

Wendelin grabbed the parchment from Dreda's outstretched hand and skimmed it. "Eldred hasn't told him you're engaged."

Dreda shook her head. "Eldred is still trying to pretend that it didn't happen."

* * *

"So how is it that your _devoted_ fiancé, who is so in '_lerve'_ that he can't go a day without writing you a sappy owl, can't come into Hogsmeade on the one opportunity he is going to have to see you until Christmas?"

Dreda glared at Rosamunde briefly and looked away. "He just can't. If the team tells him to be somewhere then he has to be there. He can't ask for special treatment when he is the youngest member of the team."

Pushing off her hood, Wendelin interjected, "Do shut it, Rosa. Can't you see that Dreda is upset?"

Rosamunde looked guiltily at Dreda and mumbled sulkily, "Sorry."

Tucking her hands into the pockets of her cloak, Wendelin said briskly, "Don't let me forget that I've promised to meet Gerda and Hilda so we can buy Trada's present. It is Gerda's first Hogsmeade visit, so you know she'll be so excited."

Dreda replied seriously, "I will remind you. I suppose I ought to get something for Trada's birthday, too. What did I give her last year, a large box of Honeydukes? Did she like that?"

Wendelin nodded. "Of course she did. Send that again."

Relieved, Dreda responded, "Good. Why does it always have to be bitter cold on Hogsmeade weekends?"

Rosamunde laughed and looked up at the bright, blue sky. "Because you think that it's cold if there is even the slightest wind. I never knew anyone to get cold so easily as you."

Dreda pointedly ignored Rosamunde and commented, "Don't you think though that something warm to drink would be very nice?"

Wendelin glanced at the row of storefronts ahead of them and said, "Well, as long as we have time to do some shopping before I have to meet my sisters. I really wanted to look for a new scarf at least."

Dreda linked her arm with Wendelin's and pulled her into the side street towards Mrs McGinty's Teashoppe saying, "Don't worry. I need to go by Scrivenshaft's to get another quill."

Rosamunde, following behind the other two, asked grumpily, "Why do we always go to Mrs McGinty's? They charge twice as much as other shops for cake."

As she pulled open the door Wendelin answered, "But they are better."

However as Dreda stepped inside the dark, quiet teashop, she suddenly squealed and raced to one of the tables near the window where two tall, dark-haired wizards wearing thick Russian cloaks were standing. "Eldred! Will! What are you doing here?"

Both young wizards, who looked as if they had recently been under a considerable strain, had wide grins on their sallow faces as they greeted their sister.

Pushing back his long hair with a laugh as Eldred was tightly hugged by their sister, Wilfred said, "Well you always come to Mrs McGinty's first because you are always cold. So Eldred had the clever idea to wait here to surprise you."

"But you aren't allowed to be back in England! Daddy said you were supposed to stay in Crete until Christmas."

Eldred scratched a short, pointed beard that only covered his chin and then replied sardonically, "Right and he'll be collecting us there for the holiday week because he doesn't trust us to travel alone. Thinks we might take a side trip or two."

Looking with laughing eyes at Dreda, Wilfred drawled in his low, nasal voice, "Which is such rubbish, isn't it, pet? Master Karatoss told us to take a trip into Rome to purchase some supplies and Scotland is _directly_ on the route from Crete to Rome."

Dreda smiled at both twins and said, "Of course it is. Does that mean you are here to see me or are you meeting your mates or something?"

Wilfred again pushed back his hair and said smoothly, "To meet you, of course. Although Eldred is going to nip off to have a chat with Cherchenko about something later. Not sure what."

Eldred elbowed his brother and looked at both Wendelin and Rosamunde. "Sorry we have been ignoring the both of you. Good to see you Wen."

Following suit, Wilfred smiled and cheerfully said, "Hello Rosamunde."

Eldred gestured to the table, "Shall we sit down?"

Eldred pulled out two chairs into which Wendelin and Dreda sat, leaving Wilfred to pull out a chair for Rosamunde and ask, "So still no Flint, pet?"

Dreda turned sharply and with a very sister-like glare at Wilfred she replied, "No. You know perfectly well that the Falcons are in Cornwall for the match at Bodmin Moor and so he can't leave. You're beginning to look rather shaggy, don't you think Wilfred? It doesn't actually _hurt_ when one's hair is cut, you know."

Passing a hand over his own very closely cut hair, Eldred laughed. "He isn't interested. Not a single trimming spell has come near his hair in nearly two years, Dreda, as Mother never fails to point out to him."

Wendelin, who had been looking with concern at a strangely pale and quiet Rosamunde, asked Eldred, "Have you heard from Thes or Cary? I've only got the one owl and it was very short."

Eldred shrugged. "Will has had two owls from Cary and there's been a postscript from Thes for me both times. They're alive if that is what you want to know. Beyond that, your guess is as good as ours."

Wendelin was clearly disappointed, but she didn't comment further since a short, plump witch bustled up to the table and asked, "Did you want the usual tea, dearies? Or perhaps a little cake to go with it today?"

Dreda turned to Rosamunde. "Did you want some cake, Rosa? We're going to make Will and Eldred pay for everything, so we might as well tuck in."

As Wilfred muttered, "Sisters…" Rosamunde looked at Dreda with an amused sparkle dawning in her eye and said, "Yes. I'll have a rather large slice of chocolate, I think. Don't you want some, Wen?"

Almost a half hour later, Rosamunde was heatedly engaged in telling Eldred exactly what was wrong with his assessment of the Harpies' defence, when she suddenly stopped in the middle of a triumphant laugh to stare outside the window of the shop.

Turning to find out what had caught Rosamunde's attention, Wendelin exclaimed, "Oh dear!"

Wilfred looked at his sister with obvious amusement and said, "You'd better go step out into the street there, pet. Someone outside looks like he's getting a little desperate."

Dreda spun about in her seat and yelped when she saw that Marcus Flint was marching up the street looking into most of the shop windows with a much harried look. Without even a word to her brothers and friends, she raced out of the shop in the direction that Marcus had been heading.

As she neared him she called out, "Marcus!"

Turning on his heel so that he was facing her, Marcus exclaimed forcefully, "Dreda!"

Dreda ran forward and leapt up so that she could toss her arms round Marcus' neck as he kissed her. "You weren't coming. You had to be in Cornwall."

Marcus did not respond until he had kissed her vigorously again. "I think I was going to get tossed out of Hogsmeade soon if I didn't find you. I've looked in just about every shop window twice and that witch in Gladrags asked me to leave."

"You didn't skive off practise, did you?"

Marcus shook his head. "No. Harris and Glenn got into it just as we were starting to warm-up, so they've had to cancel today's practice whilst they take Glenn in to St Mungo's to have the horns removed from his forehead and the other three players to have their fingers reattached. I've missed you, Dreda. You seem even more beautiful than when I last saw you. Have you been happy, love?"

Dreda pulled Marcus to the side of the road so they were out of the way of a crowd of sixth year Gryffindors that were walking past. "Not so happy as I am today. You're here and Will and Eldred surprised me and met us at Mrs McGintys. Why don't we go back in and you can get something to eat, too?"

Marcus scowled. "Your brothers are here, are they?" Looking as if the very last persons he wanted to see at that moment were the Yaxley twins, Marcus replied, "Right, well let's go back in then. You will want to see them still."

Dreda laughed lightly. "Yes, but I'm even happier to see you. You don't know how much I've missed you!"

* * *

"Did you see that Swedish Short-snout? That's the one I had painted on my wall as a baby, of course. Couldn't go to sleep until Dad charmed it to spout flames. Although the real Short-snouts aren't quite that bluish, but it did for me as a baby anyway. Brilliant Diggory was. I don't know whether I would have tried Transfiguration, but that was really very clever. Of course the cleverest was really Krum, wasn't it? Dragon's eyes, very weak they are. That makes me sure there must have been cheating beforehand because how would Krum have known that?"

Dreda shared a look of amusement with Wendelin before responding, "Rosa, _I_ know that a dragon's weak spot is its eyes. There is no reason that Krum wouldn't know, too."

Rosamunde scoffed, "I've been talking your ear off about dragons for almost seven years and so you know loads more than your average person, don't you? That Chinese Fireball had rather less flames than I would have expected for a dragon with such a strong chest box. I really thought that I saw some smoke when it breathed in, which you know could be a sign of hypoxic fumigenesis. Of course the dragon keepers ought to know about that, so I suppose it wasn't."

Wendelin sighed and looked surreptitiously down the table where Dom was sitting next to Jonathan, across from Norbert and Harold. "I'm sure that they do know, Rosa. They wouldn't have brought sick dragons would they? I'm sure all four of those dragons were in the best of health. They looked it anyway, how they charged about after all four champions as if they'd caught sight of their next dinner. Awful."

Dreda laughed, but said a little shortly, "We've been talking about dragons for an hour now. Can't we move on to something else?"

Rosamunde reached for another slice of bread and asked, "Sure. Tell us what the Durmstrang headmaster wanted with you earlier."

Dreda looked somewhat irritated. "He hadn't understood that I was Eldred and Wilfred's sister before now, apparently. Or more specifically he didn't know that I was Uncle Edmond's niece. He seems to be far more afraid of Uncle Edmond than he is in awe of my father, who has paid him stacks of gold over the years and quite had his way with Eldred and Wilfred's education. That rather surprises me and makes me wonder what Uncle Edmond has to do with it."

Wendelin nodded. "There isn't any benefit in making up to you, is there? Your brothers are finished school so there shouldn't be any further gold to come from your family."

Dreda answered seriously, "Exactly. That is why I am uneasy about it. I think that he is afraid that I might say something to Uncle Edmond, but why would I? I never particularly cared for Uncle Edmond, even though he has always seemed rather interested in me, but since he got my brothers into trouble I haven't spoken to him at all."

Rosamunde looked over at where the Durmstrang students were gathered together, mostly scowling and talking amongst themselves whilst their headmaster showered Victor Krum with attention. "Well whatever he wants, it can't be very nice. Shouldn't you stay away from him?"

Dreda pursed her lips and thought for a moment, "Yes, but that doesn't mean that it wouldn't be wise to write to my father and let him know about the conversation. Perhaps he will be able to sort out what Headmaster Karkaroff wanted."

Rosamunde agreed with a vigorous shake of her head. "Yes, do that. I don't like the looks of Karkaroff at all. And don't look now, but Cherchenko is coming this way with his dour friend."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Rosamunde exclaimed with an exaggerated expression, "Why, Wendelin, look! He sent her a picture. I bet he felt all the others were getting worn…"

Wendelin reached out and snatched the photograph from Dreda's hands. "Ohhh, it is an _official_ team picture. That is sure to impress. He does look professional, too, almost like he has just knocked someone off a broom. Oh look! There, he just did."

Dreda held out her hand and glared at Wendelin. "Marcus didn't send it, Wen. Wilfred did."

Rosamunde stopped laughing and looked with confusion at Dreda. "Wilfred sent you a picture of Marcus? That doesn't make sense at all."

Dreda rolled her eyes as she ripped the large, glossy picture in which Marcus was scowling heavily from Wendelin's hands. "I asked Will to get one for me. Marcus won't send me any of his team pictures. He says he looks they made him look like a poof."

Rosamunde sniggered as she looked over at the picture again and said mendaciously, "He's not wrong."

Dreda pulled the picture away and shoved the parchment that had come with it into Rosamunde's hands. "If you really want a laugh read that. It is Will's account of how he pretended to be a silly little first year with a massive crush on Marcus in order to get the team to send an autographed picture."

Rosamunde replied, "But it isn't autographed."

Dreda smiled. "Just read and you'll see."

As Rosamunde settled down to read Wilfred's letter, Wendelin asked, "Is your father still coming to collect you for Christmas?"

Dreda nodded. "Daddy was too furious when he found out that he wasn't supposed to get to see me for the holiday. Professor Flitwick actually tried to convince him that I ought to stay, which was very kind of him because I think he thought I would be sad to miss the Yule Ball. But you know that I can't go with a partner because Marcus would spit nails, so I might as well go home."

Wendelin shrugged. "We could have gone and sat together."

Dreda smiled. "You are going to be far too busy with Cherchenko."

Wendelin gasped, "I will not!"

As she continued to read with a large grin across her face, Rosamunde commented, "Of course you are going with your little Russian admirer. He is so determined that it is funny. You know it was he who set Bradley's sleeve on fire."

Dreda agreed, "That is probably true, but I think that I might have set Dom's robes on fire, too, if he'd been staring at me like that throughout dinner. It almost put me off my food and I was on the other end of the table."

"If I do agree then I would just be going to the ball with him, nothing more. He had to ask someone and since you'd said no, Dreda, he asked me."

Dreda shook her head. "If that is what you want to think, Wen."

Rosamunde suddenly laughed aloud. "I can't believe that Flint actually sussed Wilfred out. That is completely and utterly brilliant."

Holding out her hand, Wendelin commanded, "Let me read."

Rosamunde shook her head. "No, no. This is too priceless."

Dreda passed another parchment to Rosamunde. "Read the middle few paragraphs of that. It is Marcus' account of the same story. Of course he didn't know it was Wilfred, but he suspected it was a wind up. He just assumed it was Terrence Higgs. He is _so_ unimpressed. But I think it is brilliant."

Rosamunde pulled a face, "There aren't any of the lovey bits in there, right? Because we just ate dinner."

"Not if you skip the first paragraph and don't look at the second page."

Wendelin snatched up the parchment from Wilfred that Rosamunde had dropped. "When are your dress robes coming, Rosa?"

Rosamunde replied distractedly, "Whenever my sister remembers to send them. Mother is still useless with owls. How can you read his writing, Dreda?"

* * *

Peering over the edge of the latest issue of _Young Witch_, Dreda watched as her brother Eldred angrily tossed another piece of parchment into the fire and snatched up a new one from the stack on the side of the desk. Frowning, Dreda looked back at the picture of the latest Spanish-made dress slippers available at both locations of Zacharias' Zapateria, and considered if there was anything she could possibly say to her brother that would help.

Dreda had always known that her mother preferred Wilfred. It would have been impossible for anyone not to notice, in fact, but her mother had always tried to pretend that she felt no particular preference amongst her children. For every special thing that she had bought for Wilfred she had always bought a second one for Eldred, never suspecting that all three of her children knew that every gift had been selected with Wilfred in mind and Eldred's copy had been merely that – a duplicate for the _other_ twin.

However when Eldred and Wilfred had arrived that morning Wulfrida Yaxley had been so overset with emotion that her clear preference was so blatant as to be cruel. Dreda, who had seen the look on her brother's face when their mother had clutched his twin to her and cried, had been shocked at the degree of anguish he had clearly been feeling. Since she was her father's favourite, she realised that Eldred must have felt like the step-child of the family for a very long time.

"Eldred?"

Eldred looked up with impatience from the owl that he had been trying to write for almost twenty minutes since coming in from a long, solitary walk. "What is it Dreda?"

"Nothing if you're too busy, but I was sort of hoping you could help me."

Eldred raised his eyebrows. "What did you want help with, Dreda?"

"What on earth do I get Marcus for Christmas this year?"

Eldred set down his quill and said, "What did you get him last year?"

"A scarf. Not very inspired was it?"

Eldred shook his head. "No, but it is a reasonable first Christmas sort of gift. And you hadn't been seeing him for very long then. What did you give him for his birthday?"

Dreda looked a little embarrassed. "Well I didn't, actually, because we had only just got back together a week beforehand. I didn't feel very present-like at that time."

Eldred sighed and turned his chair towards Dreda. "Don't give him anything having to do with quidditch. That says that you didn't think much about it and just went with what was easiest and most obvious."

"That was what I was thinking."

"Right. Something that you had actually made for him would really be good, but it is a bit late for that. It is pretty late to be buying anything either, Dreda."

Dreda nodded and thought of the present upstairs that she had purchased over a month ago and felt slightly guilty about lying to Eldred. However her motives were good, so Dreda asked, "I know. But if I don't get anything then I'm doomed. Would you mind going with me to look?"

Eldred appeared startled. "Shopping? If you ask Will then he would probably go and buy something for you, actually. He's better at that."

Dreda shook her head. "No, I would rather you came with me."

Eldred narrowed his eyes and asked suspiciously, "Why?"

Dreda sighed inwardly and decided that it was time to step up her efforts. "Because, well, you are better at advice."

Eldred seemed unconvinced. "Will is always the one who comes up with the better gift ideas, Dreda."

"No, stupid. Not about the gift. I mean, yes, I need help with that. But I sort of wanted to talk to you about other things."

Sitting up very straight in his chair, Eldred asked sharply, "What has he been doing? He hasn't been pressuring you about anything has he?"

Visions of Eldred's wand doing some serious damage to Marcus in the very near future flashing through her mind, Dreda exclaimed earnestly, "No, no, nothing. Marcus has been wonderful, Eldred. Everything with him is perfect." Picking one of her private worries at random, Dreda hastily said, "It is about Wendelin. I wanted your help with her."

Eldred looked completely surprised. "Wen? Well, alright. If you really think that I could help, but I should have thought Rosamunde was a better choice for that."

Deciding that Eldred was really very difficult to manage when you didn't have any clear course of action planned out beforehand, Dreda said very firmly, "Well she isn't, or I would have asked her, obviously. It will take a while to explain, Eldred."

Eldred stood up from his chair and looked at the whirling moon clock on the top of the desk. "Right, well it is about three hours until Will gets back anyway, so why don't we go now and you can tell me all about it."

Without thinking Dreda asked, "Where did he go all by himself anyway?"

Bending over to collect his cloak, which he had tossed onto the floor after his walk, Eldred replied, "Shopping. Seems he had a gift to purchase that was somewhat secret."

Dreda smiled, "Oh, well whatever it is I'm sure you'll like it."

Eldred replied sullenly, "It isn't for me. He's buying a gift for a witch."

Dreda stopped in the middle of exiting the room and looked up at Eldred, who was holding the door for her. "No! He is going to send her a gift?"

Eldred's lip curled as he replied, "So you noticed, too? Thinks he is so clever, he does. He has been clandestinely writing to her since September."

Dreda gasped. "He has?"

Eldred smirked. "She hasn't written a single word back to him."

Dreda stared at her brother, seeing the bitterness and loneliness written clearly in his face, and said softly, "I had no idea, Eldred."

Unaware of his sister's thoughts, Eldred brusquely replied, "Well he doesn't want you to know, Dreda. He has never failed with a witch before, of course, and he is almost at wit's end with this one. His pride is smarting. Don't say anything to him."

"Oh, I won't."

Clearly feeling very conscious of having uncharacteristically betrayed his twin's secret, Eldred said, "I shouldn't have said anything either."

* * *

Rosamunde pulled off her other shoe and let it drop onto the floor with a bang as she said, "Why oh why did I dance so much in these horrible shoes? I fully intend to burn them tomorrow, Wen. I'd do it now, but I'm too tired to lift a wand."

Wendelin, who was slipping her robes over her head, replied, "Why don't we both toss our shoes out the window, just for spite? I think I must have seven blisters on my left foot. Of course half of that is probably from Yevgeny stepping on my toes all evening."

Rosamunde smirked. "Oh it is Yevgeny now, is it? Well you and Cherchenko did seem quite friendly."

Wendelin pointedly ignored Rosamunde's comment and said, "I can't believe that Hannah isn't back yet. I didn't expect Philomena back this early, but I did think that Hannah would have given Julian the slip by now. She looked miserable."

Rosamunde looked over at the other empty beds in the dormitory and replied, "Well maybe they are having a better time than we thought. I hope so. Philomena has seemed so unhappy this year."

Wendelin shrugged. "Has she? I hadn't noticed particularly. Those pink robes you were wearing really were some of the loveliest of any of the girls, I think. I thought that poor Beauxbatons boy you were with was going to drool down the front of his dress robes when he first saw you."

Rosamunde laughed. "Frenchy was a little pathetic, wasn't he? But quite pretty to look at. If only I had any idea what he was saying, I would probably be very conceited right now. He missed his mouth with the fork twice – both times when I was adjusting the front of my robes."

Wendelin snorted. "Are you serious?"

"Oh yes. He seemed quite interested in the front of my robes. French wizards are very predictable."

Wendelin laughed aloud and then covered her mouth before remembering that they were the only ones back from the ball. "Well Russian wizards are not much better. Maybe it was a little cruel of me, but I found that Yevgeny was terribly willing to run back to the sweets table and get me another ice cream if only I smiled and looked a little helpless."

Rosamunde asked with interest, "Is that where he kept going? You didn't eat that much ice cream."

"No, well he got us drinks a few times. And then I got cold, or at least he was sure I must be cold even though I said I wasn't, so he went back to the table for his cloak."

Rosamunde said almost soberly, "Wendelin, you have really got this one hooked."

Wendelin said a little uncertainly, "Do you think so? He was awfully polite, but we didn't talk that much. He seemed very willing to run about and do little errands, but I began to wonder if it was because he was a little bored and wanted something to do."

Rosamunde peered at Wendelin as if she were looking at someone she did not recognise. "Bored? Honestly, Wendelin. If he didn't talk that much it was because he was nervous and his English is not the best I have ever heard."

Wendelin looked relieved. "Then perhaps I will tell him that I'll take that walk about the grounds tomorrow."

Rosamunde gazed at Wendelin with drawn brows. "If he had already asked you to take a walk tomorrow then why would you think he wasn't interested in you?"

Wendelin explained, "It is hard to tell whether he is unhappy or just nervous at times because either way he looks surly. Those eyebrows. I can't tell what he is thinking."

Rosamunde shook her head with disbelief. "I've never seen you so unsure of yourself, Wen. I am surprised really, because we both know that you went to the ball with Cherchenko because you wanted to make Dom jealous."

Wendelin immediately defended herself, "No I didn't! Dom went with that Beauxbatons girl. The one with the overdone makeup and the rather crispy hair. I don't care at all what he does. We've broke up and that's all done. I just thought Yevgeny might be a laugh, so I said I'd go to the ball with him. That is all."

Her own memory of the quite pretty girl that Dom had taken to the ball differing greatly from Wendelin's, Rosamunde frowned. "If that is what you say, Wen, then I will go along with it. But it seemed to everyone else tonight but you and Dom that you two still cared immensely about each other."

Wendelin threw a warning look at Rosamunde and picked up her shoes and gestured for Rosamunde to hand over hers. "How about a Banishing Charm? That would be satisfactory and would have less chance of killing someone than if we dropped the shoes onto someone below from the window."

Rosamunde made an interested noise and picked up her rose pink slippers and tossed them at Wendelin's outstretched hand. She watched with glee as Wendelin waved her wand with a flourish and both pairs of shoes disappeared from view.

Wendelin looked over at her bed and the pile of discarded clothing and Christmas presents from that morning that covered the end of it. "I think I'm going to chuck them all on the floor and clean it all up tomorrow."

Rosamunde picked up a long, slender green box from the top of her pile of gifts and said, "Then the house elves will mess about with everything and I never like how they put my things away."

Wendelin, who had been unceremoniously shoving everything off her bed to the floor and kicking it underneath, looked up at Rosamunde and started to reply when she asked, "Oh, that looks like a box from Madame Duvollet's. Who sent you that?"

Rosamunde immediately threw the box onto the top of her trunk and said, "Oh that? I don't remember. Is Madame Duvollet's something I should know?"

Wendelin blinked and then said, "That is where Dreda shops. I can't even afford it, Rosa."

Rosamunde looked over at the box and said, "Oh, well then I doubt that it is from there then. I didn't look at the box really. I'm going to go wash my face."

Wendelin slipped under her eiderdown and said, "Alright. I'm not going to bother, I think. I'm far too tired."

However, as soon as Rosamunde had left the room, Wendelin hopped up from the bed and lunged for the box that Rosamunde had left on the trunk. The light green box was stamped with a large golden seal that clearly marked it as having been purchased at Madame Duvollet's private Hogsmeade location. After quickly glancing towards the door to be sure that Rosamunde had not returned, Wendelin lifted the lid and saw a deep blue silk scarf that had a shimmering scene of a large Norwegian Ridgeback breathing forth volumes of flames that seemed to actually flicker as the scarf caught the light. However when Wendelin dug through the layers of golden foil and tissue paper in the box, she could not find any note or card that said who had sent the gift to Rosamunde.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"That was the most amazing thing, Marcus. It didn't seem like it could be you out there in an official Falcons robes and everything, you know? You played excellently, too. I screamed my head off when you tossed the quaffle through the hoops the second time."

Marcus looked at his fiancée from the corner of his eye and smiled broadly for a moment as he tightly gripped her hand, before his expression returned to a frown. "I haven't been playing nearly as well as I did today. Having you in the stands made such a difference that Grant actually suggested that I might want to have you come to every match."

Dreda started to laugh, but when she looked up at Marcus' face she could see that he was not joking.

Marcus continued, "He wasn't very pleased when I reminded him that you are still at school and couldn't actually come to all our matches. I don't seem to have any focus, Dreda. It has never been a problem for me before, but my drive isn't there. I don't know what is wrong."

Dreda bit her lip nervously and after a moment asked, "It has to do with me somehow, doesn't it?"

Marcus stopped to look down at her and then as he started walking again replied, "Yes, I suppose it does."

"Marcus, just because the only way that we can get any privacy is for us to take a walk, doesn't mean we actually have to walk the entire time. Can't we sit for a while? I'm getting really cold and I'm rather winded."

Marcus started to unbutton his cloak immediately and stomped on a patch of grass nearby to see if it was soft, before saying, "Put this on, love, and we'll sit here."

Dreda pushed the cloak back into Marcus' hands and said, "You can't afford to be ill, Marcus. You have to be in good condition to play."

Marcus grimly replied, "Put it on until you have warmed up. When you sit I'll cast a Warming Charm on us both."

Realising that he was not going to back down, Dreda draped Marcus' fur-edged cloak about her own and sat down on the cold ground. As she waited for Marcus to settle on the ground next to her and cast a very strong warming charm on her and then himself, she watched him closely. She had not noticed earlier that he was paler than normal and that he had faint shadows under his eyes.

"Better?"

Dreda nodded. "Yes. What is wrong, Marcus? What is worrying you?"

Marcus shook his head. "Nothing reasonable. It is just hard being away from you, of course. I know you are busy with school and so you can't write but a few times a week. I am not upset with you, but I just miss you so much that it is very hard to bear at times. You don't know how grateful I am that your father brought you home for the holiday break, Dreda."

Dreda budged up closer to him. "I miss you terribly, too. Even though I know you will write another owl the next day, I still reread each one at night."

Marcus wrapped his left arm securely round Dreda and pulled her so that her head was resting on his chest. "I love you, Dreda. I can't wait until we are together every day. Sometimes it seems as if I literally _can't_ wait, I miss you so much."

Dreda listened to Marcus' chest as his heart thumped wildly and said softly, "I do love you, Marcus. I wish it were like last year, when I could at least see you in the corridors."

Neither of them spoke for a little while as the wind whirled round them and they huddled together. Finally Dreda asked, "What is the real thing that worries you? Are you still afraid that I will choose someone else because you aren't there to make sure I don't?"

Dreda felt Marcus twitch and then his arm tighten more about her, but he did not respond for almost a minute. When he spoke, his voice was very low, "Yes, I do worry about that. You don't know how afraid I was that you would decide to stay on at school and go to that ball with someone else. Before you get angry with me, Dreda, I know that it is a stupid fear. You wouldn't do that to me. But I am afraid of it nonetheless."

Dreda took a deep breath and thought for a moment before responding, "I am glad that you know that you are being foolish to think that, but I wish that you could learn to really trust me."

Marcus replied immediately, "It is not about trust. I know that you would be perfectly honest with me. You would tell me what you were doing and you would not sneak round behind my back. If you didn't want me any longer I know you would tell me right off and not hide it. You are very honourable, Dreda, unlike me."

Dreda shifted so that she was looking up at him and when she saw the expression on his face she moved so that she was sitting across from him.

"Dreda, I know what I am. Your father, your brothers, your friends, they are all right about me. I am not worthy of you and I can never hope to be. I will do anything I can to make you happy, to become a better wizard for you, but I won't ever be what you should have."

Seeing that Dreda was going to say something in response, Marcus held up his finger to his lips and said, "Don't say anything that you don't really mean. I knew why I was on probation all those months. You see me for what I am, too. I don't really know what it is that you do like and maybe I shouldn't ask. Miracles are better left unexplained, love. But you must see why I am almost out of my head with worry about how I could ever hope to keep you, Dreda."

Dreda asked gently, "Don't you think that I have wondered why you love me, Marcus? For years you were just someone who came to play quidditch with Will and Eldred, but all of a sudden you took it into your head to fall in love with me. You had never talked to me really. And no matter what you say, Marcus, I am not a beauty."

Marcus looked surprised. "Didn't I ever tell you when I fell for you?"

Dreda shook her head and asked in a child-like voice, "Tell me?"

"It was earlier that summer, Dreda. You came flying down to the quidditch pitch from the house and laid into Eldred about something. I don't have any idea what it was that Eldred had done, but you were like an avenging Fury and utterly implacable. Both Eldred and Will dropped their brooms and practically fell over themselves trying to appease you and you were just the most amazing, beautiful witch that I had ever seen. I think that the final nail in the coffin was your parting words, which were in Latin so I don't even know what you said, but Eldred turned purple and Wilfred could not stop laughing until Eldred kicked him."

Dreda's expression was completely blank as she gazed perplexedly at Marcus. Finally she said, "But that doesn't even make sense."

Marcus answered sincerely, "Your personality hit me like a whip, Dreda, right in the face. Your intelligence, your wit, your confidence, and your passion were undeniable. I was completely yours from that moment after."

Dreda slumped slightly as she replied dazedly, "Oh."

"It is simple, Dreda. I need you. I never even dreamed that I could want anything as much as I do you."

Dreda continued to stare at Marcus for several moments until she slowly replied, "I don't really know what to say, Marcus. I don't really know how to explain to you what I feel, except that I can't imagine ever being happy without you. I don't want anyone else. I love you."

A look of relief tinged slightly with something else passed over Marcus' face as he replied, "You don't have to say anything else, love."

* * *

"Dreda, look at Jonathan. Seriously, look."

Dreda lifted her head in alarm from the owl she had been reading and looked about for Jonathan, who was holding a long scroll with a half a dozen heavy seals dangling from it and appearing as if he had been petrified.

"Those are papers from a jurisconsultant, Dreda. I recognise those types of seals. That doesn't seem like it could be good."

Suddenly Dreda's face registered recognition and she looked back at Rosamunde. "It might actually be from my mother's cousin. I wrote to him about Jonathan."

Rosamunde's brows drew together as she tried to understand. "Why?"

"Well you see my maternal grandmother was a Shipley before she married into the Burkes. Her brother's son, Altair Shipley, is therefore first cousins with Wen's father, my mother, Aunt Walburga, and our Uncle Ecbert. Remember that Uncle Ecbert was mother's favourite brother and you see, Uncle Altair and Uncle Ecbert were rather like Wendelin and me when they were at school."

Rosamunde commented, "You pure-bloods do keep track of your family connexions. But anyway, go on."

"Well Uncle Altair is a Wizengamot Interrogator."

Rosamunde mouthed, "Oh!" and then looked back towards Jonathan. "That was rather decent of you, Dreda."

Dreda shrugged. "Jonathan has wanted to be a jurisconsultant for some time and he would be excellent at law. I knew that Uncle Altair presented his son Aldebaran for entrance to the bar not too long ago. Therefore I thought he might have been looking for a new student."

As Dreda was speaking to Rosamunde she could hear Jonathan get up hastily from his chair and walk towards her. Turning quickly in her chair Dreda faced Jonathan, who was still holding the scroll tightly in his hand.

Jonathan spoke as if he were out of breath, "Dreda, you actually wrote to Interrogator Shipley for me."

Dreda nodded, but looked somewhat uncertain as she said, "I only suggested that I knew of someone who might be interested in studying under him. I hope you don't mind, but I thought you were interested. You don't have to do it, Jonathan. I didn't commit you to anything."

Jonathan stammered, "Are you mad? All I have to do is get Es or above on all my NEWTs and I will have a fellowship to study under one of the Interrogators. He is even offering me a room at the Outer Temple. I would have to be completely witless to turn it down, Dreda. I can never thank you enough."

Dreda looked somewhat uncomfortable as she replied, "You don't have to thank me, Jonathan. You would have done just as much for me, I am sure. Besides that you might not feel very thankful when you experience Uncle Altair's temper firsthand."

Jonathan shook his head. "No, I am quite serious, Dreda. Thank you. This is beyond anything. I am going to find Hestia and then owl my parents. Mum is going to go bonkers."

As Jonathan hurried away from the table clutching the scroll and yet forgetting his school bag and cloak at his chair, Rosamunde turned to Dreda and asked quietly, "What did you have to do to get Jonathan that fellowship, Dreda?"

Dreda blushed slightly as she responded, "I went to see Uncle Altair over the summer with Mother and mentioned Jonathan to him. He told me that if our head of house could write a sufficient letter of recommendation for him then he would take Jonathan on."

Rosamunde shook her head. "It could not have been that simple, even if you did wrangle Professor Flitwick into writing a recommendation."

Dreda looked evasively away towards the head table where their head of house was barely visible above the table surface, but only said, "Professor Flitwick was happy to write the recommendation. I am glad that Jonathan didn't mind that I was sort of heavy handed."

Rosamunde sighed. "Most people don't complain when they are handed their dreams on a platter, Dreda."

Dreda avoided Rosamunde's eyes and said, "Jonathan deserves to be happy. I think it would have been wrong of me not to do something when it really cost me so little effort."

Deciding that further discussion was pointless, Rosamunde popped the last bite of a very flaky pastry into her mouth and shrugged.

Dreda turned back to her letter and neither of them spoke for several minutes until Dreda asked in a very perplexed tone, "Rosa, what exactly _is_ quodpot anyway?"

Rosamunde looked up from her porridge and said, "What?"

"Quodpot. What is it?"

Rosamunde made a derisive noise and replied, "The American bastardisation of quidditch. I don't know much about it. You could ask Bradley though."

Dreda looked over at Dom Bradley, who was sitting next to a very pretty Beauxbatons girl and looking very bored, and then back at Rosamunde. "It doesn't matter. I was just wondering. Apparently one of the Falcons players thought it might be good for a bit of relaxation to play a game of quodpot instead of run drills."

Rosamunde shrugged. "I don't know, I think the ball explodes maybe. Oi, Bradley!"

Dom looked over at Rosamunde and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Rosamunde shouted, "Know much about quodpot?"

Dom looked somewhat surprised, but called out, "A bit. Exploding leather quaffle-like ball. Have to get it into a pot at the end of the pitch. I think that's about it."

Rosamunde bellowed, "Sounds about right. Thanks!" Rosamunde looked away from Dom and smiled at Dreda. "Well that sounds rather American, doesn't it? I think they like things that explode if you trust their films."

Dreda frowned. "What's that then?"

Rosamunde laughed. "Films, movies. You know, they are muggle pictures with sound that tell a story for about two hours. My muggle cousins are mad about them."

"Oh. I thought that was telyfision."

Rosamunde giggled. "Television, yes that is similar. It doesn't matter." Rosamunde's expression changed as she said, "What is going on with Wen?"

Dreda turned about and followed Rosamunde's gaze to where Wendelin was standing talking to Yevgeny Cherchenko by the end of the table where the Durmstrang students were eating breakfast.

"She doesn't look very pleased and she's looked over here three times."

Dreda turned slightly red. "Oh, that's about me. I told her that I would only go along with them to Hogsmeade if Poliakoff understood clearly that he was not my date."

Rosamunde gaped. "You actually agreed? Dreda, you despise Poliakoff and Flint is going to go ape when he hears of it."

Dreda, who looked very unhappy, replied, "Well you know how we have been trying to encourage Wendelin to continue seeing Cherchenko so she can get past Dom?"

Rosamunde nodded.

"Right, well Wendelin was nervous about going off to Hogsmeade with him alone and she wasn't going to go with him if I wouldn't go too, so I finally said that I would, but then that stupid oaf Poliakoff somehow got added into the bargain later. She is reminding them that today is _not_ a date."

Rosamunde's eyes were darting between looking at Wendelin and back at Dreda as she asked, "But what about Flint? He is going to completely lose the plot. You know how jealous he is."

Dreda shook her head. "I wrote to him already. I've told him that it isn't a date and if their practise gets cancelled again or if somehow he can come to Hogsmeade that I really would like him to come."

Rosamunde shook her head. "No. I'm going to tell Frenchy that we are going along with you. I am not letting you broil yourself on the sacrificial fire, Dreda."

Dreda started to speak, but Rosamunde had already jumped up from her seat and run down to the other end of the table, where Angelil de Villepin had been sitting watching Rosamunde and Dreda talk. With considerable relief Dreda watched Rosamunde tell the Beauxbatons student that his private date had just become a group event and, despite feeling slightly guilty when she saw the wizard's crushed expression, Dreda began to dread the rest of the day considerably less than she had ten minutes beforehand.

Dropping back into her seat across from Dreda, Rosamunde said, "Well that's sorted."

"Thank you. I am sorry to have ruined your date with de Villepin, but thank you. You don't know how relieved I am not to have to spend all day talking to Poliakoff."

Rosamunde shook her head. "Nonsense. You didn't ruin anything. It is Wendelin's fault. There is no reason that she should be so insecure about going off with Cherchenko. The town is crowded with wizards and witches; he can't exactly abduct her without attracting notice. I'm about to tell her off because she's finally coming to sit down."

Dreda heard Wendelin's bag drop onto the ground beside her and did not look up from her plate as she began to determinedly spread jam over her toast.

Rosamunde almost exploded as soon as Wendelin sat next to Dreda. "What do you mean asking Dreda to going along with you, Wendelin? You know she would be miserable with that stupid Ukrainian idiot. And even worse you could be jeopardising her relationship with Flint, who will never understand why Dreda has to go about Hogsmeade with another wizard."

Wendelin turned a very bright red as she said tearfully, "I know. I realised this morning when Dreda asked me to tell Poliakoff that it wasn't a date that Marcus might also get a different idea about everything and so I actually just told Yevgeny that I am not going with him. I'm sorry, Dreda, I don't know what I was thinking. We'll just go together and Yevgeny can go off with Gregor on his own."

Instead of feeling relieved, however, Dreda felt her own face began to darken with anger as she looked at her cousin with narrowed eyes. "It would have been nice if you could have made this discovery before I wrote to Marcus."

Wendelin glanced across at Rosamunde, who was sitting with her arms crossed over her chest and looking obdurately unyielding. Turning back to Dreda, Wendelin said shakily, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know that you'd written to Marcus."

Dreda's eyes flashed as she replied, "Well of course I wrote to him. If I had told him about it after then he would have thought I was trying to hide something. I will meet you both at the carriages. I'm going to go send another quick owl to Marcus. I have a bad feeling all of a sudden."

As Dreda started to snatch up her bag and gather her things to leave, Wendelin gasped, "Dreda, I really am sorry. I really didn't think of it until this morning.

Rosamunde scoffed loudly, "Honestly!"


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Marcus opened one bleary eye to see how late the morning was, but immediately closed it. Such bright light really was unbearable in the morning. But it must be very late.

Grant was right. He was going to have to start putting in double practices when they got back to Falmouth if he wanted any hope of being played in the next game. His flying had been completely useless in the last hour of that match against the Arrows. He had never in his life been placed on the reserves for a team, so yesterday evenings' announcement that he was being dropped down had been a horrible blow.

It could not have come on a worse day either. Knowing that Dreda was walking about Hogsmeade with some Durmstrang wizard had already put him completely over the edge. Even for him, being charged with 20 fouls during a game was an all-time high. He knew that the one that had finally got him chucked from the game had been egregiously excessive. His career in quidditch had got off to a very bad start and, if he didn't get control, might prove very abortive.

Marcus lifted one hand to his head and wondered thickly how much Firewhisky he had actually drunk. He didn't remember anything beyond ordering a second bottle and being informed by the barman that he had passed his limit. He rather thought he might have threatened the barman with a second nose, but that might have been the American wizard in blue that was sitting at the end of the bar who had been whinging about English witches. He had no idea who the other wizard, the one with the red hair and big ears, had been, but Marcus was pretty certain that he had pulled his wand on him for some reason. It might have had something to do with the wizard being a Ballycastle Bats supporter, but it was also possible that the wizard had merely said something about bats and Marcus had felt like cursing him anyway. After that point Marcus' memory was completely vacant, although he suspected that there was something about someone wearing very shiny green robes.

Marcus sat up from the bed and placed his feet on the floor and groaned from the throbbing pain behind his eyes. There ought to be some sort of potion in the cupboard that could help. His flatmates had enough experience with hangovers certainly, so they might have a remedy, as well. Standing up with a gigantic yawn and finally uncovering his eyes, Marcus blinked rapidly as he focussed on the room and tried to sort out where he had left his robes. However as he placed his hand on a chair that should not have been there, Marcus suddenly discovered that he was not in his flat at all. Not only that, the chair he was resting against was draped with a set of shiny, lime green robes.

Marcus stood completely petrified, unable to turn about and look at the bed where he had apparently spent the night. However when he heard a noise behind him and a very drowsy voice say, "Morning," Marcus whirled round and saw a completely unfamiliar face surrounded by very curly auburn hair staring sleepily at him.

Marcus felt every part of his body go numb and then his skin begin to burn as his heart started wildly beating and he yelled, "Oh sod it! Sod it!" Feeling as if his legs and arms were made of jelly and becoming unbearably dizzy from the riotous rushing of the blood through his ears, Marcus reached for something to cover himself and began scanning the floor for the remnants of his clothing.

A high-pitched voice with a strong Sussex accent assaulted Marcus' ears with an accusing, "Well that is not quite the reaction that I usually get in the mornings."

Refusing to let himself look at the witch Marcus snarled, "I don't care what you are used to, you nasty filthy slut."

All at once he could feel the gorge rising in his throat and suddenly raced for a basin that he had seen in the corner of the room and bent over to be sick. As he held himself above the basin, hoping that there was nothing left to sick, Marcus heard the unknown witch moving behind him and he grabbed a towel to wipe his face.

The witch accused with fury, "You're married, aren't you?"

Marcus shook his head and gripped the edge of a battered chest of drawers as he replied miserably, "Engaged. Don't talk to me."

The witch hissed nastily, "Some catch you are. I pity your poor little witch - just some innocent pretty girl who nabbed herself a quidditch player I expect. Does she have any idea what you really are?"

Marcus turned about with a growl and violently pushed the witch away from him. "I told you not to talk to me, you old slapper."

Marcus made a dive for his robes and managed to pull out his wand at the same time as the witch snatched hers from where her robes had been thrown over the chair. They stood staring at each other for several seconds before Marcus said hoarsely, "I just want to leave. Please, just don't ever talk to me again and don't come near me."

The witch, who was hastily pulling on her gaudy robes over the very sheer underrobe that she had worn to bed, laughed harshly, "There are plenty more Quidditch lays where you came from."

Marcus kept his wand trained on the witch as he pushed his head through the top of his robes and responded with disgust, "You really are a foul slag." As the witch stepped in his direction Marcus exclaimed with panic, "Stay away from me!"

The woman, who Marcus could now see was at least twice his age, looked at him with dislike mingled slightly with pity. "You needn't worry love, because you weren't all that good."

Now Marcus felt his face burn as he wriggled into the rest of his robes and summoned his boots and socks from the floor. As he silently shoved his feet into each boot and pushed his socks into a pocket, Marcus tried to think out what he should do, but could not think of anything that was going to save him from his fate.

As he stood up, he wiped his face dry and turned his red eyes one last time towards the witch, who was levitating a long Falcons scarf in front of him with her wand. "You'll need that." Marcus wrapped the scarf round his neck and no longer even tried to hide his tears as he turned away to leave.

Marcus heard the woman say with resignation, "Don't worry. I won't tell her, okay? Just go home."

Picking up the rucksack filled with his equipment from near the door, Marcus raced from the room and down the eleven flights of rickety stairs to the narrow alley outside.

Tripping over a slightly raised cobblestone, Marcus raised his wand and turned to Disapparate to his parents' home. When he arrived in front of the door, Marcus realised that in his lack of concentration he had splinched a boot and part of his left sleeve during Apparating. Relieved that he had at least not done any physical damage, Marcus stumbled to the front door and cast the necessary Unlocking Charms.

Once inside, Marcus leant against the door, heaving with fear and exhaustion, and looked about the entry hall with some relief. After a moment he called out tentatively, "Mum?"

Marcus barged through the front corridor of the house and called out again, "Mum? Are you home?"

A door at the far end of the hallway banged open and Celestina Flint stepped out into the corridor with a panicked expression on her face. "Marcus! What is wrong? You look like some attacked you. Are you alright, son?"

As his mother ran her hand along his face with a strained look in her eyes, Marcus shook his head and babbled hoarsely, "I've ruined everything. I have just buggered everything. I don't know what to do."

Celestina flinched and she closed her eyes briefly as she asked curtly, "How badly?"

Leaning against the doorway Marcus blurted out hopelessly, "I went off on the piss last night and ended up with a witch."

Celestina looked at her son as if she were unable to comprehend what he had said for several moments before commanding furiously, "Inside. Just get inside and sit down, you stupid, idiot boy."

Marcus slunk into the room and out of old habit dropped on the chair his mother had always forced him to sit in when he had been naughty as a child. The stiff high-backed chair was uncomfortably close to the blazing fire, but Marcus did not seem to notice as he warily watched his mother, who had firmly closed the door behind her and was walking towards him.

Her hands waving furiously, Celestina raged, "You went off and slept with another witch? How unutterably thick could you be? Do you have any idea what Hunwald Yaxley is going to do when he finds out about this?"

Marcus, whose thoughts had been entirely about the damage he had done to Dreda, gaped at his mother as this new truth reared its terrifying head.

Celestina continued wrathfully, "He will kill you. It is likely he will torture you first, but there is no doubt at all that he will kill you, Marcus. You could not have picked a worse family to embarrass than the Yaxleys."

Marcus felt his stomach beginning to revolt again, but forced himself to concentrate as he replied forlornly, "Dreda, it is going to hurt her beyond anything. I couldn't have done anything worse to her."

Celestina's eyes narrowed even more as she spat furiously, "The feelings of your little witch are hardly as important to me at the moment as the fact that you are going to be murdered by her father if I can't get you out of the country quickly."

Marcus shook his head. "No, I won't run away before I have spoken to her. She deserves for me to tell her myself."

Celestina gripped her son's shoulder and as her nails dug deeply into his skin she snarled, "You will do no such thing. I am going to have to get your father to see if his cousin will hide you at their home in Lisbon until I can find a way to slip you into Brittany. Yaxley is too well known there and wouldn't dare show his face anywhere near your Uncle Etienne's estate."

Marcus stood up from his chair and repeated stubbornly, "I am not going to run away, Mum. I still love her."

"Marcus, Yaxley is not going to be remotely interested in your emotions. He will only care about his daughter's feelings."

Marcus raised his voice and spoke very forcefully, "Then at least he and I have one thing we agree on. I am not running away. I know that she will probably never want to see me again, but I have to try, Mum. I will beg, I will grovel, I will do anything she wants, everything I can think of."

Celestina gripped her son's shoulders once more. "The Yaxleys do not forgive, Marcus."

Marcus pulled himself free and asked desperately, "Please, help me, Mum. I have to try. There isn't any point in anything if she doesn't want me anymore, don't you understand? If she gives me up then I don't care if I die."

It was evident that Celestina could see that her son was dangerously distraught and seriously believed that he would prefer death over a life without his witch. Celestina also knew that there was nothing that could be said to convince her son that he was being naïve and foolish. She had known him for almost 20 years and knew that his attachments were as obstinately permanent as his father's were transient. "I am not going to watch you throw yourself to the Yaxleys like a newborn to a werewolf."

"I can't go to Hogwarts to see her. I don't know what to do."

Celestina snapped, "Write her a Lecteur. That way she cannot refuse to hear what you have to say, since it will follow her everywhere until she listens to every word."

Marcus nodded eagerly and said slowly, "Yes, a Lecteur. I can do that."

Celestina pointed to her desk and ordered, "Go on then. Write it all down. Confess like an idiot and write whatever you think might soften her heart." As Marcus lumbered over to the desk, Celestina looked with dread at the fireplace as she bitterly said, "I will Floo to Wulfrida and see if she is willing to keep Hunwald from finding out about this until you have spoken to Etheldreda."

Marcus, who was staring at one of the deep blue parchments on his mother's desk that were enchanted with the Lecteur charm, barely heard his mother's statement as he blindly picked up a quill from an ancient gold quill stand. Therefore he also did not see the mortification on his mother's face as she dropped a fistful of Floo powder into the flames and stepped through.

However Wulfrida Yaxley, as she walked into her drawing room to greet her surprise visitor, was immediately sensitive to the emotion in Celestina's face and knew that something had happened between Marcus and Etheldreda. "What has happened, Tina?"

Noticing Wulfrida's unusual dismissal of the normal social niceties, Celestina decided immediately on a plan of total honesty. "My idiot son has made a total fool of himself and our family. I don't believe that he knows the witch, actually, and I understand that he was quite drunk. But there is no excuse for it and no hiding it."

Wulfrida froze briefly in the act of lowering herself regally into a blue silk-covered chair and then, as her eyelids hooded her eyes, asked tightly, "What is it that you expect from me, Tina? If this is true then of course the engagement will be ended and the Yaxley family will seek restitution."

Celestina took a deep breath and replied, "All I am asking is that Marcus be allowed to explain himself to Etheldreda before the family intervenes. Then if Etheldreda wishes the engagement to end, of course it shall, and we will pay any costs that you feel are reasonable. But I won't allow my son to be harmed, Wulfa."

Wulfrida laughed as she looked at her oldest friend and sneered cruelly, "I don't see how you could really stop my husband from protecting my daughter, Celestina. What were you planning to do, hide him in Brittany with your brother-in-law? There is no point in hiding him because Hunwald will find him eventually."

Celestina stood up from her chair and responded with anger, "I don't deny that my son is a fool, Wulfrida. Believe that I am more embarrassed and mortified than I can say. However, there is no need for Hunwald to do anything to punish Marcus. My son will do an excellent job of that on his own. He truly loves your daughter."

Wulfrida smiled menacingly, "I wouldn't care if he loved the house elf, Celestina. Your son's emotions are insignificant. My daughter is the only thing here that is important to me and that is doubly true for Hunwald. I will do nothing to help your son."

Celestina made one last desperate attempt for her son. "Then do it for your daughter. Give her the choice. Let her decide about Marcus instead of doing it for her."

Wulfrida stared at Celestina for a moment before agreeing finally, "That I will do. I will not say anything to Hunwald for now, but I cannot guarantee that Hunwald will abide by Etheldreda' wishes either, Celestina. He might feel that Marcus has forsaken his rights regardless of what our daughter wants."

Celestina nodded curtly. "I understand." She turned quickly and dropped the fist full of Floo powder that she had snatched from the large crystal bowl on the mantelpiece into the raging flames of the drawing room fire.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The group of five seventh year Ravenclaws rushed up the stairs towards their dormitory, despite the fact that their classes were due to start within a few minutes and that they all carried heavy school bags over their arms.

As Rosamunde pushed past a first-year, who had dropped his bag and goggled at her blatantly, the edge of her own bag knocked the boy over, causing Wendelin to exclaim, "Rosa! Careful."

Dom held out his hand to the boy, who now seemed to be even more in awe of Dom than he was of Rosamunde, and said, "You're alright. Better hurry on to class." The boy looked nervously at the crowd of seventh-years and ran away clutching his bag to his chest.

Norbert, running his hand uneasily through his spiky blond hair as he looked at his watch, asked grimly, "Are we sure that it was a Lecteur? It could have just been a blue envelope. Lecteurs are pretty rare things."

Rosamunde turned on Norbert and snapped, "Yes, well how often is someone at the school summoned to court, approached by debt collectors, or notified of a death? Usually that is what it means to get a Lecteur, so of course they are rare."

Dom narrowed his green eyes at Rosamunde and said roughly, "We understand that, Dawlish, which is why we are all here."

Turning on his heel, Dom shoved open the door and they all hurried into the common room in time to hear Dreda shout into the fireplace, "…and I thought that I really could! But apparently all it takes is some Firewhisky and suddenly I mean nothing to you."

His mouth gaping, Jonathan looked at Dom, who stepped back and gestured to Norbert.

They could hear a very hoarse voice plead, "Please, Dreda. I meant that I would do anything that you asked."

Dreda lifted her wand and pointed it at the head in the flames saying nastily, "Anything?"

Marcus Flint's raw voice was audible throughout the Ravenclaw common room that was empty with the exception of the five friends and Dreda. "Absolutely anything."

Dreda spoke bitterly, tears rushing down her bright red cheeks. "Then go to my father voluntarily. Only if you can convince him that you love me will I ever speak to you again." A line of green sparks flew from her wand and bounced off the fire plate as Dreda waved her wand wildly. "Don't speak to me, don't write to me, don't try to do anything to see me. I am not your fiancée, I am nothing to you."

The three wizards in the room were all huddled near the door to the room, looking as if they knew that they should retreat, but were afraid that to do so would attract attention. Rosamunde and Wendelin had both moved on either side of Dreda, who had not yet seemed to notice their presence as she commanded once more, "Go to my father, Marcus. I want you to tell him what you did and then dare to say that you love me."

There was almost total silence in the room, except for the crackling of the flames and Dreda breathing heavily as she waited for Marcus' answer. After several moments everyone could hear as Marcus responded – the fear in his voice palpable, "Alright, Dreda. I will go to your father. I will tell him everything."

Dreda did not respond, but stood with her head held high so her long black hair streamed down her back and her brown eyes were blazing as she watched the fireplace.

Speaking almost unintelligibly, Marcus said thickly, "I do love you, Dreda, and I am sorry."

Dreda only yelled, "Go," and pointed her wand at the fireplace to end the Floo connexion, before collapsing onto her knees with a moaning scream. As Rosamunde and Wendelin huddled Dreda between them with their arms hugging her closely, Dreda sobbed in deep, guttural moans on the floor in front of the raging fire. The three wizards by common assent slipped from the room and into the hall outside the Ravenclaw dormitory entrance where they immediately began to stand on guard.

After almost ten minutes of continued wailing, Dreda said suddenly, "You don't know, you don't know what he did. I believed him. I really believed that he loved me. I was such a fool. Aunt Lysandra always told me that you could never trust a wizard. She _always_ said that wizards don't fall in love, that it is all just lust and that I was better off without a wizard."

Rosamunde patted Dreda's back and said, "Shhh. I know, honey. I know."

"Well I was stupid. I was so stupid and I fell in love with him. How could I have been such an idiot?"

Wendelin said soothingly, "You weren't stupid, Dreda. It will be alright."

"No it won't. He cheated on me! He slept with some horrid slag when he was drunk. It is sordid and cheap and disgusting."

Speechless, Rosamunde looked to Wendelin, who replied, "He wrote the Lecteur, Dreda?"

Dreda impatiently gestured and said, "Yes, of course. He wanted me to have to listen to all his explanations. His promises that he would do anything to prove his love. His apologies, over and over the apologies. And his stupid, useless, lying declarations of love. I hate him. I hate him."

Rosamunde put her arm about Dreda again and did not speak as they all three huddled together once more.

Finally Wendelin asked, "You sent him to your father, Dreda?"

Dreda nodded and tried to choke another sob as she mopped her face with Rosamunde's handkerchief.

"Is his death what you really want?"

Rosamunde's eyes snapped to Wendelin's in shock, but Wendelin continued seriously, "Do you really, truly want Marcus dead, Dreda? Because you have just ordered his murder by sending him to your father."

Dreda stood up and stared into the fire as she said unstably, "I hate him. Don't you see what he has done to me? He made a fool of me. He lied to me. He has embarrassed me forever in front of my family. I hate him."

Wendelin also stood and asked again, this time more forcefully, "Do you want him to die by extended torture at the end of your father's wand?"

Dreda turned to Wendelin and her eyes suddenly focussed as she said, "What?"

"You have just sent Marcus to your father, Dreda."

"Oh, oh Wendelin. Daddy will kill him. He will kill him! Oh Marcus, what have I done? What was I thinking?"

Wendelin reached into a tall flowered vase on one of the bookcases near the fireplace and took out a large handful of Floo powder. "You are going to Floo your father and you are going to explain to him that if he kills Marcus then you will never forgive him. You must be firm, Dreda. You have to be very clear with your father about exactly what you want him to do when Marcus comes and even more precise about what you will never forgive your father for doing or else he will destroy Marcus. Do this _right now_, Dreda. Because Marcus is probably so distraught that he has gone straight there."

Dreda let out a panicked scream. "Hurry up, Wen. Hurry!"

Wendelin tossed the powder into the flames and shouted, "Ethelwulfburga Estate, Yaxley, Cambridgeshire!"

* * *

As soon he saw Wendelin enter the Great Hall, Dom excused himself from the conversation with Jonathan and stood up. Walking down the table so that he was standing in front of Wendelin and beside Rosamunde as they began to sit, Dom held out that morning's Daily Prophet to Wendelin and said, "Fourth page, bottom." 

Wendelin nodded curtly as Rosamunde said, "Hello Bradley."

Dom asked Rosamunde seriously, "She is still not coming down?"

Rosamunde shook her head. "Madame Pomfrey has given her another calming draught and she is going to attend classes today, but she just can't bear coming down to the Hall. She is afraid that everyone knows."

Dom frowned. "We didn't say anything. Norbert didn't even tell Harold what we heard."

Wendelin handed the newspaper to Rosamunde and looked at Dom. "Thank you. That article won't make her any more comfortable, but we had to see what the public will know."

Dom nodded again and turned to go back to his seat.

"Wen, this isn't good. There will be an investigation."

Wendelin shook her head. "The article only says that Marcus was found unconscious in a side alley of Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade could mean _anyone_ attacked him. Marcus is refusing to give any details about who his attacker was, so they don't know where to look. They even interrogated that player that he fouled nine times in his last Quidditch match. They have no idea who did it, Rosa. The only thing that they have been able to discover is what curses were used, which is a good thing because that makes healing him easier."

Rosamunde whispered, "But it says that an Unforgivable is suspected."

Wendelin shrugged. "Well, the Cruciatus Curse is very effective, if rather unoriginal. I would guess that they also found evidence of a Bleeding Curse, a Suffocation Curse, and some psychologically based curses, as well."

Rosamunde shivered. "I don't like Flint, you know that I don't. But to undergo all that…"

Wendelin replied, "It took courage going there, Rosa. He knew what was going to happen. He probably expected to die, actually."

Rosamunde stared disbelievingly at Wendelin. "No one would do that, Wen, not if you knew they were going to kill you."

"There is no way that he did not know. He is an idiot and a bastard, but he must truly love her if he went to Uncle Hunwald to beg forgiveness."

Rosamunde whispered, "But she will never forgive him either, Wendelin."

Wendelin smiled sadly, "Yes she will. You heard her, Rosamunde. She loves him – even more than I had suspected. When she can be convinced that he really does love her then she will forgive him."

Rosamunde shook her head. "No. You know what she is like. Once she has turned on you then she is lost to you forever."

Wendelin peered down the table towards Philomena Hood, who had been Dreda's closest friend for most of their first year, and said, "You are right, of course, but Rosa, she hasn't turned on him. Didn't you hear the desperation in her voice as she pleaded with Uncle Hunwald? She loves Marcus."

Rosamunde groaned. "He doesn't deserve her."

Wendelin frowned. "No, but that doesn't change anything. I just hope that her brothers don't decide to do anything stupid."

Rosamunde's cheeks reddened. "I don't think that they will."

Wendelin looked intently at Rosamunde. "Has Wilfred told you so specifically?"

Rosamunde answered, "Well I told him that if they even so much as raised a wand in the same general direction as Marcus that Dreda would never forgive them and that I certainly would never speak to him again. It was the first owl that I have ever sent him, too, which ought to mean something to him since he's written me at least 20. He has promised me that he won't and if he wants he can control Eldred." After a moment, Rosamunde suddenly exclaimed, "Wait, how did you know?"

Wendelin rolled her eyes. "I have been certain that Wilfred has been writing you since October. I don't know if Dreda knows though. Anyway, we know very few people other than the Yaxleys who could afford that Christmas gift you got either."

Rosamunde's face was flushed deep red. "Well just because I sent him one owl doesn't mean anything really."

"If you secured a promise from Wilfred not to finish off Marcus, Rosamunde, than you have done more than just write him an owl."

Rosamunde clenched her jaws and replied, "Well I only said that I thought that he was a rotten, selfish, egotistical prat and that he was exactly the opposite of what I was interested in dating."

"Rosa, tell me what you did."

"Well I haven't done it, but if I send another owl then I have."

Wendelin leant across the table. "What are you planning to do?"

"I will give Frenchy the heave and agree to meet Wilfred on the next Hogsmeade visit."

"That is in March. There is no chance that is all Wilfred wants from you."

"Well I'll write to him, too."

"Rosamunde is he blackmailing you into being his girlfriend if he agrees not to harm Marcus?"

Rosamunde looked away from Wendelin. "No. He has been asking me in every single owl he's sent since September to write him and to meet him in Hogsmeade alone. Wilfred hasn't made me promise anything. I was going to offer it to him."

Wendelin exclaimed with horror, "Rosamunde! No."

Rosamunde ran a hand across her very pretty face and answered, "He wrote back to my owl and has promised to allow his father to manage Marcus. I didn't promise _anything_ and he didn't even include his usual request to meet him or ask that I would write him again. But if I tell Wilfred that I've stopped seeing Frenchy and imply that I might meet him in Hogsmeade in March then he might be more inclined not to act rashly."

Wendelin repeated, "No. No, Rosa."

"Why?"

"Because you don't like him. You are just using him like you did Harold and de Villepin."

Rosamunde looked with surprise at Wendelin. "I would have thought that if you knew Wilfred was writing then you would have understood that he is the reason that I broke up with Harold and why I started seeing Frenchy in the first place, because nothing else would upset Wilfred more than a Beauxbatons student."

Wendelin stared at Rosamunde and gasped, "But you don't actually want him, do you?"

Rosamunde shook her head. "No, I am still not sure that I do. I hadn't intended to give Wilfred a chance until at least late March, but if it could help Dreda then I would kiss him right here in the middle of the Hall and sort out just how much I like him or not. I'm not going to use him, Wen. I'm just going to finally give him a chance to get what he wants. That doesn't mean I'll make it easy for him."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter** **22**

"Are you sure that you wouldn't rather we all went about Hogsmeade together, Dreda?"

Dreda shook her head and responded dully, "If Wilfred is going to be with you, Rosa, then Eldred will need special attention. I don't think that you really understand how hard this is going to be for him. They've never been separated and they always do things together."

Rosamunde laughed, "Well I'm sure they've had dates before."

Dreda sighed. "Yes, of course they have, but Wilfred has never been this serious about getting any witch's attention before. Dating is one thing, but if Wilfred manages to get his way then Eldred would lose his best mate. They eat together, work together, and play together. They have even shared a bedroom for 19 years. You have the potential to change all of that."

Rosamunde snorted and said contemptuously, "If I were Eldred I wouldn't worry too much."

Wendelin interjected, "Wilfred Yaxley has never pursued anyone like this before, Rosa. He asks a girl out and she says yes. Then when he is bored he breaks it off. It was seeing Eldred watch Will talk to you this summer that made me suspicious of all those owls you were getting. Eldred is taking Wilfred's interest in you _very_ seriously."

Rosamunde shrugged. "Well I'm not. I don't like wizards who think that they own the earth and everyone should bow down to them. Unless Wilfred's attitude changes dramatically then this will be the furthest our relationship ever goes. Besides, your parents barely tolerate me as your friend, Dreda. I can't see them allowing Wilfred to see me."

Both Dreda and Wendelin were too honest to refute Rosamunde's statement, so the silence in the carriage continued until they arrived with a jerky stop at Hogsmeade.

"Where is Cherchenko meeting you, Wen?"

Wendelin smoothed down her wavy hair as she replied, "Oh the Durmstrang students had to walk in, so Yevgeny is going to meet me at Botts, since I wanted to look for a book."

Even Dreda smiled slightly and Rosamunde laughed loudly as she asked, "You are making Cherchenko meet you in Botts? Oh that is priceless. He will probably have been the first wizard to enter through that door in years."

Wendelin looked somewhat amused. "That is true. I hadn't thought about it, but Botts is primarily a witch's bookstore."

As Rosamunde jumped down from the carriage, however, Wendelin and Dreda could hear her mutter, "Oh no."

When she stepped from the carriage, Dreda saw her father standing there with their house elf, which was heavily laden down with parcels. Turning round quickly she hissed in Rosamunde's ear, "Go to Mrs McGinty's. If they saw Daddy they might retreat there knowing that we like that shop. Tell Eldred that if I can meet him that I will go there later, but I doubt I'll be able to get free."

Running over to her father, Dreda gave him a large hug and tried to infuse her voice with enthusiasm as she said, "This is a lovely surprise, Daddy."

Looking warily at his daughter, as if he suspected something, Hunwald Yaxley replied smoothly, "Well I thought that I would treat you since you just had your birthday."

Dreda laughed hollowly, "But you sent me stacks of presents for yesterday. You didn't have to do anything more."

Hunwald kissed his daughter's cheek and did not respond, clearly realising that she was not pleased to see him. "You look very nice today, Wendelin. You must be meeting a wizard, eh?" Receiving confirmation from Wendelin's nod, Hunwald continued. "And you look well, Miss Dawlish. Wendelin your mother sent something for you." Turning to the house elf, which looked terrified to be out in the streets of Hogsmeade instead of safely inside, Hunwald commanded, "The brown package, elf."

Wendelin took the parcel from the house elf and when she saw Dreda's urgent look said, "Thank you, Uncle Hunwald. I don't mean to be rude, but Rosa and I both do have to meet someone. Would you mind very much if we went off?"

Hunwald nodded and turned to his daughter as Wendelin and Rosamunde escaped in the direction of Mrs McGinty's Teashop. "Have I interrupted something, Dreda? I had thought you would be happier to see me, and if not me then the gifts."

Dreda answered seriously, "I am happy to see you, Daddy. I always am. If I had known that you were coming then I would not have made any plans for today."

Frowning darkly, Hunwald asked, "You weren't meeting a wizard?"

Dreda shook her head. "I don't want to see Marcus right now. I don't know when I will want to see him again."

"But there is no other wizard still?"

Dreda looked up at her father and tried to steer him to the other side of the road, away from her usual teashop towards another on the other end of the village. "No, I don't think there ever could be another wizard, Daddy."

Hunwald did not reply and neither of them spoke for several minutes as they walked along the High Street with the house elf following closely behind them. Finally Hunwald asked, "Where are you taking me, pet?"

Dreda responded quietly, "I thought if we went to get some tea then we could talk. You did come to talk, didn't you? You wanted to see how I am doing?"

Grunting with amusement, Hunwald replied, "Yes, little one. Very astute. This tea shop seems to be quite out of the way. Does it sell particularly good cocoanut cake?"

Dreda smiled slightly at her father's joke and replied, "I don't know. I don't usually come here, but it is quieter and we can talk better."

"Speaking of cocoanut cakes, your mother had Binky make your favourite angel cakes as a special treat. Sipsy should have them in one of her parcels, so you will have something nice to take back with you."

Dreda turned a genuine smile on her father. "Really? The Cocoanut Archangels? I know they are an awful trouble, but Binky makes them so well."

Hunwald smiled dotingly at his daughter, "What else should Binky be doing but making sweets for my pet, hmm? Did you like that book on wyverns that I sent?"

"Oh yes, it looks like it is going to be very interesting. Rosamunde was begging me to let her read it, because you know she is mad about dragons of course, but she isn't getting her hands on it until I'm done. I haven't seen a sociological treatment of wyvern weyrs in Europe."

"I thought that was something that might interest you. Anything esoteric usually does, little one. As for your other birthday presents, your mother had those robes made specially, you know. She had Duvollet make alterations three times before she was satisfied. The first time I think it was an extra lining for warmth because she is afraid you might be more prone to chills since you are under so much stress. The second time it was a deeper pocket for your wand, since your wand is longer than most. The third time I think she decided that you would like that new tucked waist that is so fashionable right now."

Dreda allowed her father to pull out a chair for her and as she sat down she replied, "That was very thoughtful of her. Is she very worried still?"

Hunwald handed his cloak to the house elf and sat across from his daughter. "Very. You know that she had a dozen questions that she wanted me to ask you today. But what she really wants to know is whether you are too unhappy at Hogwarts. When all this happened back in January she wanted to come and get you, of course, and take you away for a week or two. Naturally I knew that you would not want to leave school, but you should know that your mother has been very concerned about you, pet. She doesn't know how to show it well, but she asks me every day if I have heard from you and if I am certain that you are happier at school."

Looking rather surprised, Dreda said quietly, "I did not know that she cared quite that much. Please tell her that I am happier at school with my friends. I would be loads more miserable elsewhere with nothing to distract me. I have been studying even more than ever and it has helped. It is only four weeks until the examination, so it is actually proving to be serendipitous that I don't have any other distractions."

Hunwald held his hand up to tell the serving witch not to interrupt them as he said without turning his eyes from his daughter, "A very strong pot of Indian for my daughter and a pot of China for me." As the serving witch hurried away to get their tea, Hunwald answered his daughter, "Your mother cares very much about all of you children. She might display her affections for Wilfred much more than you or Eldred, but make no mistake that there is nothing she would not do for any of you. I think that your mother does not understand you or Eldred as well as she does Wilfred, pet, since you two are much more like myself. But if you doubt whether she loves you, then I can assure you that she does and quite deeply."

Dreda seemed somewhat shaken by her father's words as she worked to unbutton the top of her cloak. "I'm worried about Eldred, Daddy. I have been noticing that he feels quite marginalised in the family. He has seemed very unhappy and a little bitter."

Hunwald tapped his finger on the table as he watched his daughter wriggle out of her thick black cloak with its beaver fur lining. After several moments he asked, "Are you trying to tell me something specific or is this a general observation?"

"A little of both, really. I have been getting more worried about him this last year, but recently it is more specific."

A disgruntled expression crossed Hunwald's face and he asked curtly, "Your friend has given Wilfred encouragement finally?"

Dreda did not face her father as she nodded her head.

"She is writing to him?"

Dreda nodded again as she fiddled with her fork.

"What else?"

Unwillingly, Dreda asked, "Did you know that Wilfred had been writing her at school all year?"

Hunwald shook his head, but commented, "I am not surprised to hear it."

"But she didn't write him back. He just kept writing. I think that is what has Eldred scared. Wilfred isn't giving up."

Hunwald was now clearly displeased as he sharply queried, "So what has changed? You said that she has finally given him some encouragement."

Dreda looked towards the kitchens and said, "Well she started writing him back."

"You already told me that, Dreda. _What else has gone on_?"

"Well it isn't as if Wilfred can come to visit her at Hogwarts. There has not been anything that he is allowed to do, has there?"

Hunwald banged his fist on the table and asked fiercely, "What else has my son done? You are evading telling me the truth and I _won't_ have it. Etheldreda Wynflaed if I have to ask you one more time than you will regret it!"

Dreda's eyes filled with tears and she whispered, "Rosa gave her last boyfriend the toss and told Wilfred that she would meet him when he could get to Britain."

"And when was that to be? Has my son broken his promise to me and come into Scotland to see this Mudblood friend of yours? Because if he has, Etheldreda, and you abetted him then I will hold you partially responsible."

Dreda fluttered her hand as she replied haltingly, "I don't know where Wilfred is. Rosa was going to Mrs McGinty's. If you don't trust Wilfred then we can go there and see if he is with her. I didn't have anything to do with Rosamunde and Wilfred."

Hunwald glared at his daughter for a few seconds and then relaxed back into his seat. "Your friend did not tell you that she was going to meet Wilfred at this tea house?"

"No, Daddy."

Looking somewhat appeased, Hunwald said in a more gentle voice, "Very well then."

"I knew you wouldn't be pleased about this relationship, Daddy, and I think that is why Rosa has been refusing to see Wilfred. She knows that you and Mother will try to make it hellish for her so she won't want to join the family. Rosamunde isn't stupid at all and she has far too much pride and self-confidence to want to enter into any relationship that would be doomed from the start. As it happens I think that Wilfred would be unspeakably lucky to get someone like Rosa, who is far more intelligent than I am, you know. Wilfred would have to run to keep up with her and she would never make things easy for him, which would be very good for him, actually. He is quite disgustingly conceited these days, Daddy. But I think she is right not to want to see him because you really would make her life hell and she deserves considerably better than that."

Taken aback by his daughter's forthright speech, Hunwald frowned and looked about the tea shop. Noticing that the serving witch was huddling behind the counter, staring at them as she gripped the tray that held their teapots, he gestured to her to come over and said to Dreda, "We will discuss this more in a moment, pet. I think that we have frightened our serving witch and if we want any service at all we shall have to watch our conversation."

As the serving witch placed a pot of tea in front of Dreda with shaking hands, Dreda turned to the house elf, which was sitting on a chair in the corner with the stack of parcels and two long cloaks draped over her lap. "Sipsy, would you please take a note for me to Rosamunde Dawlish? I don't think that I am going to be able to meet her and I don't want her to wait on me."

The house elf looked with scared eyes at Hunwald Yaxley, who nodded, "Go on, as long as you are back before we finish our tea."

The house elf slipped off her chair and came over to the table, where Dreda was quickly scribbling on a scrap of paper and explaining gently, "You shouldn't get lost Sipsy if you go straight up this road we were just on and turn on the road right next to the shop with the large glass windows and the purple doors. The tea shop is on the left side of the road there and my friend has very blond hair, is quite tall, and will be wearing a Ravenclaw cloak and red robes."

The house elf made a wobbly curtsy and, after taking the note from Dreda's hands, disappeared.

* * *

"I have talk today with Eldred when you are talking to this Dawlish. He is saying he wants coming to the Easter holiday. He is thinking we all meeting him in the Hogsmeade village. Though I am not answering yet, Vendelin. I am hoping again you will say you change your mind to come. My mother is coming three days and I am wanting for you to have met her."

Wendelin squinted her eyes against the setting sun as she stood next to Yevgeny Cherchenko on the lawns near the lake. "I am sorry, Yevgeny, but I will be home with my own family. I haven't seen them since summer and my brothers are coming home as well. It is very nice of you to ask me to meet your family, but don't you think that it is really rather early for that anyway?"

The tall slender wizard standing hunched beside Wendelin shook his blond head and said earnestly, "No, I am really wanting my mother meet you particular. I am writing so much about Vendelin that she is saying she must meet you when she come next month."

Wendelin frowned and looked away as she replied, "I am sorry, Yevgeny. I don't think that my family would understand. They are expecting me to be home that whole week."

Cherchenko hunched further into his furs and asked darkly, "You are still liking this Dominic Bradley?"

Wendelin turned back as she answered, "I told you when we started all this that I really like Dom, but that we are just incompatible. But whether or not I could come to see you during Easter has nothing to do with Dom."

"I am thinking you like him much more than me."

Wendelin tossed her head, her olive green eyes flashing dangerously, "Well don't get silly about it. Jealousy isn't going to make me like you more, Yevgeny. We are still very young yet and whilst this has been fun I don't intend to make any major decisions right now."

Cherchenko's hand clenched the brown paper parcel that he was holding and he glared at two of his fellow Durmstrang students, who were walking back to their ship. "I am glad to have been fun for you."

Wendelin sighed as she replied, "You are looking for a fight, Yevgeny, but you won't get one. I'm too tired after lurking about Hogsmeade with you and Eldred all day whilst Rosa and Wilfred talked. It wasn't a very nice day – you weren't any happier than I was – and if you are disappointed you can take it out on Eldred, not me. I am going to go back into the castle and I will see you tomorrow."

Cherchenko handed the parcel to Wendelin, saying, "I do not want fighting, Vendelin. I am liking you too much, you see. I will be waiting for you at the Great Hall in morning to walk you to the class."

Wendelin paused for a moment and then turned away to walk to the castle. However she looked back to say, "I will see you tomorrow morning." Whirling round again so she couldn't see Cherchenko's unhappy face, Wendelin ran back towards the castle, where she knew Rosamunde and Dreda were waiting for her. As she raced through the cold, Wendelin wondered whether Cherchenko had been right to assume that she was still too interested in Dom Bradley to give him a real chance.

Of the two wizards Cherchenko was the better looking, although Wendelin had always preferred dark hair to blond and she found Dom's thin, English face to be kinder than Cherchenko's rough Slavic handsomeness. However Cherchenko had the same interests in magic that Wendelin did, which was not only a relief to her but rather exciting. He had read many of the same books, had attempted many of the same spells, and had even stronger beliefs than she did regarding using the Dark Arts to keep one's family safe. She was no longer surprised that Cherchenko had been such close friends with Eldred even though he had been a year behind the Yaxley brothers at school. Like Cherchenko, Eldred Yaxley had been half in love with the Dark Arts since he was a child. She well remembered Eldred talking with a thrill about the fascinating complexity of how Dark magic worked in nature. She had eventually understood the delightful seduction and draw of the Dark Arts herself both as a witch and an intellectual.

Hurrying up the stairs to the Ravenclaw Tower, Wendelin saw Norbert and Harold standing near the entrance to the dormitories as they waited for her to catch up to them.

Harold asked stiffly, "Still seeing that Durmstrang, Wendelin?"

Wendelin frowned. "Yes, actually. Why?"

Norbert interjected hastily, "We were only wondering, Wendelin. Did you still want me to look at your map for Astronomy?"

Looking oddly at Harold, Wendelin walked into the common-room replying, "No, I finished it this afternoon. I chose Raselhague, but I think that Rosamunde used Sadr. I think Dreda was going to use Rigel, since that one is still available."

Walking over to a table in the corner, where he dropped his bag loudly, Harold commented, "No it isn't, I decided to use Rigel instead of Enif."

Glancing oddly at the unusually unpleasant Harold, Norbert shrugged at Wendelin, who returned the gesture and walked over to the seat that Rosamunde and Dreda had been saving for her.

Rosamunde stopped what she had been saying to Dreda and commented uneasily, "Cherchenko didn't look too pleased, Wen. I'm sorry about today. It was a disaster, wasn't it?"

Wendelin sank into the chair with a sigh. "Definitely. Skulking about Hogsmeade was not what I had planned."

Dreda said seriously, "I was just telling Rosa that it was a very near miss with my father. He knew that something was going on and he managed to get out of me that it had to do with Will, but I was able to avoid telling him that Will was here to see Rosa."

Incredulously Wendelin asked, "You lied to your father?"

Dreda shook her head. "No, I have never lied to Daddy. I can't. But I evaded and split hairs very finely and even bluffed him once. I thought I was going to spill it all at one point."

Rosamunde grimaced. "I wish I hadn't agreed to meet your brother. It was all so much stress and worry and for what?"

Wendelin flopped back onto the chair cushion. "You really are going to give up after only the one date?"

Dreda turned to Rosamunde. "Really? You…you aren't going to see him again?"

Hearing the hurt in Dreda's voice, Rosamunde pursed her lips and looked away at a portrait of two young witches from the nineteenth century playing Gobstones.

Wendelin pushed further, asking, "Is it the family problem, Rosa, or is it Wilfred?"

Suddenly, Rosamunde burst into tears and raced from the common-room, leaving her two friends sitting stunned in their chairs and quite a few other Ravenclaws staring after her in surprise.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter** **23**

As Marcus bent over to collect his bag from the floor, he grimaced from the pain in his leg and immediately stood back up. He flicked his wand at the bag causing the contents to shoot out of the top and onto the table in front of him, where he began to sort through them in search of his Mend-and-Bend Potion. Not finding the bottle amongst his Quidditch things, Marcus limped out of the room and down the short corridor of his flat to the bathroom. He gestured again with his wand, starting the taps at full force, and then began to rummage through the cupboard in the corner which contained an assortment of potions and concoctions all of which would have been well known to any serious Quidditch player.

Selecting a tube of Grumby's Bludger Bruise Buster, Marcus sat on the edge of the tub and pulled up his robes so he could inspect the large black spot that had formed round one side of his knee. Grimacing at what he saw, Marcus turned back to the tub and reached for a large box of Madame Bosley's Skin Soothing Soak and dumped at least half the contents into the steaming water. His body was covered in bruises at various stages of healing, but this latest indicated an intramuscular haematoma that was going to require more than Grumby's and the Skin Soothing Soak. Biggs had told him that in his own first-year of playing for the Falcons that he had learnt enough Healing Spells that he had decided that if a Quidditch career failed that he might consider becoming a Healer.

Marcus concentrated very hard on the surface of his knee and pointed his wand directly at the kneecap as he uttered four succinct words, being very careful with the pronunciation that Grant had stressed to him. When he opened his eyes the skin looked very red, but the pressure behind it had decreased, so Marcus hoped that he had executed the spell properly. He would find out soon enough. Grant had sworn by his grandmother's Healing Spells and so far Marcus had to admit that they were proving easier to cast than those in his Wizard's First Aid Primer – if he could only remember how to say the Gaelic words correctly.

As he quickly shed his robes and stepped into the scalding hot water, Marcus winced from the pain. In all the years of playing at Hogwarts he had never considered how much harder on his body professional Quidditch would be. The constant pain he could manage, but the stiffness and swelling never seemed to go away. As Marcus rubbed a bar of soap over his arms he tried not to look at the mottled appearance of his skin, which was the result of constant bruising from his relentless private practices. At least he had finally won back his spot on the starting team even if it had taken two months of recuperation and therapy after he had finally been released from hospital.

Marcus closed his eyes and leant back against the porcelain tub – hoping that he was tired enough that he could relax. However he almost immediately opened his eyes again and sat back up with his hands gripping the side of the tub. St Mungo's had said it wasn't a curse – merely the result of trauma, however Marcus could not imagine that anything but a curse could keep those images so prominent in his mind. They were always there – too close to forget and too real to ignore. Only constant physical action kept it all at bay until he passed out from exhaustion at night.

Sitting still in the water for a few more minutes until he could not bear the inaction any longer, Marcus pulled the plug and stood up from the bath. Wrapping a towel about his waist, Marcus wandered from the bath down the corridor to his tiny kitchen. There was half a loaf left from the day before and the cold cupboard had a shepherd's pie, two pasties, and a cold bit of steak, which should be enough if he finished off the lemon tart, as well. At least he didn't have to worry about his flatmates eating his food now that he'd been able to find his own flat. It was nearly impossible to keep enough food round for himself even without worrying about flatmates eating half of it.

Marcus pulled over the Falcons playbook and sat down to eat as he studied the sheets of plays, which he had long ago memorised. Reading through the familiar words, Marcus felt himself relaxing somewhat and lifted a hand to massage his neck whilst he chewed a tough mouthful of steak. He still had over a stone left to gain to return to his normal weight, but the team Healer had told him that morning that there was no physical reason why he was still unable to regain his weight. At least he was guaranteed an excellent meal the following Sunday, since his mother had commanded him to come home for Easter. He was supposed to see Terrence for dinner this Sunday, but he had been unable to hold a decent conversation with Terrence for months so it might be better if he cancelled again.

After he finished, Marcus dropped the fork onto the plate and, realising that he had left his wand in the bathroom, left the dirty dishes on the table and drifted from the kitchen down to bathroom and collected his wand from the floor. However instead of returning to the kitchen, Marcus walked next door into the small room that he used as a bedroom, dropped his towel onto the floor and fell onto the bed with an exhausted sigh before waving his wand towards the corridor to extinguish the lights.

As Binky smoothed the lace cloth over the top of the green and white silk eiderdown and pulled the cover up to Dreda's chest, Dreda lay exhaustedly against her large goose down pillows and considered the day before.

Ever since she had received the letter from the Department of Mysteries after her perfect OWL results, Dreda had been preparing herself for the Entrance Examination for Special Recruits. Due to the secrecy surrounding both the training and recruitment process for Unspeakables, the examination had been scheduled during the Easter holidays so recruits could take it without raising suspicion. In addition, the time was chosen so that recruits who failed would still have two months to apply for other careers before taking their NEWTs. Of course, her NEWTs were still important, but after having prepared for the Entrance Examination, Dreda felt that the NEWTs were going to be more like revision than a challenge.

The results of the Entrance Examination would be given to her before the end of the week, so she would know very soon how she had fared. Dreda had been expecting to feel an enormous sense of relief once she had completed the exam, but now that it was over she merely felt strangely numb. Her life had been so consumed with worrying over her examination that now as she considered spending the morning reading the last few issues of _Young Witch_, she actually felt hollow inside. Instead of being pleased that she could rest, she realised that there was no longer anything to keep her from thinking about Marcus. At her own request it had been almost three months since she had seen or heard from him. But somehow she was suddenly ready now.

Gently pushing aside her Kneazle, which had been sleeping on the covers next to her, Dreda sat up further in the bed and looked down at the breakfast tray that Binky had just set in front of her. She knew that the house elf had prepared a special congratulatory breakfast for her and Dreda felt as if she ought to be happy. But as she stared down at the large slice of rich _panetùn_ on her own special golden plate, Dreda felt the nerves building in her stomach to the point that she didn't know if she would be able to eat anything. All that she knew was that he was still playing for the Falcons, so he must have recovered from whatever her father had done to him.

"Binky, I would like my lap desk and my blue parchment and my Colour-Change Ink. Actually, no, I think my violet ink would be better. I'll want the short white quill and the blotter."

The house elf asked in a high pitched, squeaky voice, "Does Miss Etheldreda want the tray moved away so she can write?"

Dreda nodded and waited as the house elf snapped her fingers and the tray was moved to the other side of the bed. With a second snap, Binky sent Dreda's special laurel wood writing desk across the room and onto Dreda's knees. As the house elf placed the blotter and parchment onto the writing desk, Dreda asked uneasily, "Are my brothers here yet, Binky?"

The house elf bowed and replied, "No, Miss Etheldreda. Mistress is waiting for the Master, Mr Eldred, and Mr Wilfred in the back sitting room."

Dreda took her quill from Binky and stared down at the long piece of blue parchment in front of her without any idea how to begin.

Marcus awoke very slowly to the sound of something faintly tapping repeatedly and incessantly very nearby. When he was able to open his eyes, he saw only his bedroom, which consisted of just a bed and wardrobe. There was nothing that should be making any noise. In fact as his mind began to lose some of its grogginess, Marcus realised that the sound was coming from another room.

Standing up from the bed, Marcus almost tripped on the towel on the floor. Feeling rather cold, he pulled open the door to the wardrobe and yanked out an old black school robe and tossed it over his head. Even if there was someone at the door it didn't really matter what he wore under his robes.

Scuffling his feet as he wandered out of the bedroom, Marcus heard a very definite rapping sound coming from his sitting room. Finally understanding that he was receiving an early morning owl, Marcus hurried to the window and opened the sash. However as soon as he saw the small grey spotted owl, his knees weakened so he had to drop onto the nearest surface, which happened to be a stand for holding his broom during waxing. Marcus wrenched the blue parchment from the owl's leg and then reached automatically into his pocket for an owl treat. His hand pulled out an owl treat that had to be a year old, which he offered to the owl. Dreda's owl ignored the food and flew over to the almost empty bookcase on the opposite end of the room. Apparently the owl was supposed to wait for a reply.

With badly shaking hands, Marcus opened the letter and took a deep breath to try to control himself as he saw Dreda's small, curly handwriting sloping across the parchment. The message was very short, but it contained words that he had not even allowed himself to dream about seeing. She wanted to see him, that morning if possible. All he had to do was name a neutral location in which they could meet. Marcus jumped up from his broom stand and frantically looked round the sitting room, wondering where he had any ink or clean parchment. He would have to write Biggs too and let him know not to expect him for the afternoon drill that they had planned together.

Almost three hours later, Marcus was finding it nearly impossible to sit still in his seat near the back of the dining room of the Leaky Cauldron. He had never actually eaten in the Leaky Cauldron before that morning and considering the runny eggs that he had been served he didn't imagine that he would voluntarily do so again. But of course he was far too nervous to have been able to eat much no matter what was served him. Dreda wanted to see him. Surely the Leaky Cauldron was a neutral enough territory for her. He had been waiting for two hours, not knowing when she was going to come, and scrutinising every person who opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron's dining room.

After three months of having forced himself for the sake of sanity never to voluntarily think of Dreda and working to keep his involuntary thoughts of her to less than a dozen times a day, now Marcus' mind was chaotically churning through how she was going to look, everything that she might be coming to say, what she must have been doing these three months, how she was going to look, whether she would be happy to see him, if she might possibly have forgiven him, and how she was going to look when she walked through the door…Marcus closed his eyes and told himself that if he didn't gain a slight bit of control that he would be useless to talk to when she came.

He heard the door open again, so his eyes popped open and this time he saw what he had been waiting to see. Jumping up from his chair so suddenly that it slid backwards into another table, Marcus hurried forward to meet Dreda, who he saw looked extraordinarily pale and strained.

Shivering slightly, Dreda said quietly, "Hello Marcus."

Marcus hurriedly replied, "Dreda, are you too cold? Did you want a cup of chocolate?"

As Marcus clumsily took her cloak, Dreda did not look up at him, but merely said, "I suppose that would be nice."

Turning to wave at a slight woman, who was serving a table of young giggling witches with their mother, Marcus then looked at Dreda and pulled his chair back to the table. "How have you been, Dreda? You must have taken that examination for which you were studying so long."

Dreda raised her eyes from the table. "Yes, I took it yesterday. I will know how I did sometime this week, probably today or tomorrow."

Marcus, whose hands were gripping the arms of his chair tightly, heard the serving witch approaching them. He turned to face the woman and, after a short look at Dreda to be sure she didn't want to order her own drink, said, "Miss Yaxley would like a cup of chocolate, please."

The serving witch asked, "Did you want anything else, sir?"

Marcus looked at his own full cup of coffee and replied curtly, "No." As the serving witch walked away, Marcus watched Dreda staring at the table. "I am sure that you did very well, Dreda. You have been preparing for quite some time."

Dreda dully replied, "Well we shall see soon." After a long pause Dreda finally asked, "Have you been alright, Marcus? My father didn't…you have been able to play Quidditch and do everything? You weren't permanently affected, I mean?"

In a gruff voice Marcus answered mendaciously, "I am fine, Dreda."

"Good. Okay."

Neither one of them spoke as the serving witch brought over a large beaker full of steaming hot chocolate. Dreda slipped her hands round the warm beaker and seemed to lose herself in her thoughts.

Marcus watched her for a while and then decided to ask the question. "Dreda, did you change your mind after sending me to him? Was it because of you that your father did not kill me?"

Dreda looked up and her lip wobbled slightly before she nearly whispered, "Yes. I didn't want you to die, Marcus. I was furious when I sent you there, but I didn't actually think about what it meant. Wendelin made me realise that Daddy was going to kill you, so I had to Floo Daddy and make him understand."

Marcus' eyes were strangely dilated and he replied hoarsely, "I did not know whether it was you or if he thought one of his curses would have done the job and I was just lucky."

Dreda stated simply, "So you did know when you went there."

Glancing at her with surprise, Marcus responded, "That I was going there to die? Yes, love; I knew what your father would probably do. But if in some way it would have gained me absolution from you then it didn't matter. I couldn't have lived knowing that you hated me still and I have been hoping that the fact I am still breathing meant that you at least did not hate me, Dreda."

Dreda took a deep breath and looked up at Marcus with a hard expression. "I don't. Not now. I thought that I did when I got your Lecteur. I really did."

Marcus replied in a gruff voice, "I know and I deserved that."

Dreda reached into her pocket and pulled out a large gold ring with a fiery red stone and placed it on the table. "I should have sent this to you before. I don't know why I didn't."

Feeling all the blood rush from his head, Marcus turned anguished eyes on Dreda. "I see."

Dreda laid her hand on the table near where Marcus had placed his over the ring. "You broke that promise, Marcus. I can't wear that ring ever again. Do you understand that?"

His brows drawn together, Marcus nodded and stared at Dreda.

"You will have to make a new promise to me, Marcus, but I don't know how it is going to work."

In one swift movement, Marcus had grabbed Dreda's hand in both of his before he responded thickly, "I don't know either, Dreda, because I meant what I said before. I do not want any other witch and that will not change. I have no excuse or explanation for what happened."

"Then how can I know that this won't happen again?"

Marcus answered gravely, "I have thought about that over these last three months. Of course I would take part in any Binding or Fidelity Charms that you wanted, but I don't know if that is as meaningful to you as a voluntary promise. If you want a promise that is made without magic or coercion, Dreda, then I can give you one now. _I will never betray you again._ I will not let it happen."

Dreda shook her head. "How can you guarantee that, Marcus? You told me that you don't even know how it happened this time. You were drunk and then you woke up with the witch. That could happen again."

Marcus caught Dreda's hand again and repeated, "No. I will not let it happen. I understand why my word does not seem very trustworthy, but I am deadly serious when I say that it will never happen again, Dreda."

Dreda pulled her hand away from him and cupped her beaker again.

"Do you trust that I love you, Dreda?"

Her head snapped up from staring into her drink and Dreda answered, "Nothing else would have made you go to my father. You have proved yourself about that, Marcus."

Marcus appeared surprised. "Would you consider giving me another chance, Dreda?"

Dreda spoke brusquely, "I _am_ giving you another chance, Marcus. That is why we are here."

As she spoke, Marcus grabbed her hand again and pulled it to his lips. "Thank you, Dreda. I won't disappoint you again, my love."

Dreda looked at him for a moment and then replied, "I need to believe that, Marcus. I hope that you can make me believe in you again."

Tightly holding her hand near his cheek, Marcus asked, "What can I do to rebuild your trust, Dreda?"

"I think that only time will really do that, Marcus. But I don't want to be apart any longer. I am ready to start again, I think."

Marcus was finding it almost impossible to keep calm enough to sit near Dreda and actually talk, but he pushed himself to keep his control as he responded, "Shall we start this morning, Dreda, or do you need to return home?"

Dreda bit her lip and peered apprehensively at him for a moment before asking, "What did you want to do?"

"I don't know, Dreda, perhaps we could just walk round Diagon Alley. It will be hard to interact normally here, I think."

"You don't have to be anywhere?"

Marcus shook his head. "I was going to spend the afternoon practising with Biggs, but I've already cancelled that."

Dreda looked uncertain as she said, "Well, Eldred and Will are getting back today and the family is going to the evening Palm Sunday mass together. Mother has a new hat and she won't be happy if she can't show it off."

"We can spend as much or as little time together as you want, Dreda."

As she indecisively stared up at him, Dreda could not resist the worshipful expression in Marcus' eyes and felt herself melting as she replied, "I can stay for a little while, but not very long."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter** **24**

Dreda opened the door to her brothers' private study and poked her head inside, tentatively calling out, "Eldred?"

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and turned as her brother answered, "Yes, Dreda?"

"Wilfred is gone?"

Eldred gestured for her to enter the room and shut the door and then said, "Yes. He told Mother that he was going to see a mate."

Dreda settled on the chair across from Eldred and asked, "Are you going to be difficult about Rosamunde? Because I'm not going to stand for it if you are. Will is lucky that she even speaks to him, frankly."

Eldred frowned darkly, "I have never disliked your friend, Dreda. She is clever, quite pretty, and certainly never boring so I understand why Will is infatuated. But she isn't Yaxley material."

Dreda stood up from her chair immediately, her fists clenched tightly by her side. "Oh no? She has every quality that a witch should have but one, right?"

Eldred did not drop his eyes from Dreda's face as he responded, "Yes. She isn't a half-blood with a Mudblood mother, Dreda. Her mother isn't even magical. She is a common Muggle with so little sense that you'll remember she told Mother that she doesn't trust magical devices in the house and makes her husband keep them in his library. What sort of family is that, Dreda? How could this friend of yours hope to survive in our family?"

Dreda sighed, but her face did not relax as she answered, "Yes, her mother is a silly woman. But her father is a very capable, decent wizard and you can see that the only thing that Rosamunde got from her mother is her looks. Beside that, Eldred, if Wilfred were lucky enough to get her, which isn't even remotely certain, then it is his job to make sure that she is comfortable in the family."

Eldred shook his head. "I do not want that Muggle woman in our family and the idea that she would have the status of mother-in-law to Will is insupportable. No, Dreda, I won't accept her into our family. At least I don't have to worry about your relationship anymore."

Dreda's face turned red and she said uneasily, "Well, that was what I came to talk to you about. I need your help, Eldred."

Eldred's eyes widened. "You've taken Flint back? Dreda, why?"

"I never stopped loving him, Eldred. I was just so furious and hurt about his betrayal that I had to take time away from him. I had to decide if I wanted him still and if I did under what circumstances I could begin a relationship again."

"And you have?"

"Yes, Eldred. That was where I went yesterday. It was the first time that I had talked to him since the day I found out."

Eldred stared at his sister and asked, "You really believe that he loves you, even after that?"

Dreda pulled her chair closer to Eldred and placed a hand on his knee. "Eldred, he went to see Daddy voluntarily because I told him that I would never talk to him again unless he could convince Daddy that he really did love me."

Eldred gasped, "You _sent_ him? I had assumed that Father hunted him down. I never thought Marcus was thick enough not to know that Father would kill him upon sight as soon as he knew."

Dreda leant forward and succinctly replied, "Oh no, Marcus knew exactly what he was doing. He never expected to leave our house alive, Eldred."

Eldred pulled his brows together and said, "If that is true, Dreda, then Flint has more character than I thought. Is he willing to have a Fidelity Charm put on him?"

Dreda nodded, "Yes, of course. He has said that he would let me do any Binding or Fidelity Charm that I need. He was even willing to take an Unbreakable Vow, Eldred, which I cannot allow. But I don't know that I want him to submit to any charms. They are only magically binding, so they don't mean he is being faithful to me by choice. I want to know it is voluntary - that he is choosing every day to stay faithful to me."

Eldred sighed, "Dreda, it is your decision, but you should do one of the charms."

"I haven't decided not to do one, Eldred, but I am not sure that I will."

"With what did you want my help, Dreda? It doesn't seem that you wanted my advice."

Dreda bit the end of her nail nervously as she said, "It is about Daddy. I am going to need help with Daddy, Eldred. Mother will take Wilfred's lead and I know you can make Wilfred see reason. Whenever you really want him to agree with you then you always get your way. But Daddy takes you seriously, Eldred. Even though he thinks I'm the cleverest witch in Britain, he still imagines I can't sort myself out enough to make real decisions. Daddy thinks you are the most stable of us all and would listen to you if you supported me about Marcus."

Eldred asked solemnly, "You are determined to have Marcus, Dreda? You are very sure?"

"Yes. I haven't agreed again to marry him yet, but then he hasn't dared to ask me either. However I know that I want him, Eldred. I love him, you see."

"And so you would be unhappy without him, I suppose. Very well, Dreda. Am I to go to Father before you talk to him?"

Dreda considered for a moment and then replied, "No. I have to be the one to tell Daddy. He has to see me and read my expressions so he knows that I am serious."

Relieved, Eldred said curtly, "Probably so. I will speak to him tonight then. You'd better run off and talk to him before Will gets back."

* * *

As Dreda sat immobile in her chair reading the long, emotional owl that she had got from Rosamunde only ten minutes before, she could hear Eldred and Wilfred arguing in the bedroom next door. The evening before had been particularly difficult for her as their father had fluctuated between raging at Wilfred and casting disappointed, unhappy glances at Dreda. But as Dreda read the owl from Rosamunde she realised that the evening must have been even harder for Wilfred. Rosamunde had refused to meet Wilfred again during the holidays even though it was only Monday and they could easily have spent more time together before she returned to school and he left again for Crete. Throughout that evening Wilfred had been defending a relationship to his family that did not even truly exist.

Dreda read again over Rosamunde's description of Wilfred and how everything had gone with him so far, including the last 'date' in which they had attended a Quidditch match at Ilkley Moor for two teams that neither of them particularly supported. However since Wilfred had been told that Rosamunde did not want to go to eat, walk round any parks, go shopping, or do anything that involved being more or less alone with Wilfred, Dreda considered that seeing a Quidditch game, even for teams about which neither of them really cared, was a decent compromise.

Trying to ignore the increase in shouting in the room next door, Dreda sighed and thought about what Rosamunde said of Wilfred. It was obvious to Dreda that Rosamunde was very interested in Wilfred, but that she believed that Wilfred did not have the strength of character to make a relationship with her work. Dreda reconsidered many of the things that Rosamunde had done over the last year, understanding now that many of them had been tests to see if Wilfred could be trusted and if his interest was sincere or merely a passing fancy. It seemed to Dreda that Rosamunde was waiting for Wilfred to do something that would finally prove himself to her. However Dreda didn't think that even Rosamunde knew what that was.

Dreda got up from her chair and dropped the letter into the fire before walking to the door that led to her brothers' bedroom. She had been trying to allow them to settle this themselves. Her interference was never welcomed in their disputes, but in this case Rosamunde's happiness could be at stake. Dreda opened the door without knocking and walked into a scene that shocked her.

With his long black hair hanging down across his face and roman nose flaring with intense anger, Wilfred held his wand pointed at Eldred's heart and his other hand at his brother like a claw, his gleaming silver fingertip aimed directly at Eldred's eye. Dreda turned her head immediately to look at Eldred and instead of the anger almost amounting to hatred that she had read in Wilfred, she saw misery and bitterness written on Eldred's pallid face. Eldred looked utterly wretched as he dropped his wand hand and said coldly, "I have nothing further to say to you then. You have made your choice and I won't forget it."

Dreda realised that neither of her brothers had noticed her entrance and at Eldred's words she began to feel very uneasy.

When Dreda turned her head to Wilfred, his expression had changed completely. He had also dropped his wand hand and the fingers that had been stretched out like claws towards his brother were now held out appealingly. "Eldred, don't make me choose. It doesn't have to come to that."

Eldred, who had now noticed Dreda, answered hollowly, "You are the one who brought it to this, Wilfred."

"Why? You know I despise her mother. She is brainless even for a Muggle. But her mother doesn't matter, Eldred. All that matters is Rosa and I won't give her up for you or for anyone. All of you, except Dreda, have made it abundantly clear that Rosamunde is unwelcome and unworthy of me in your eyes. But if she is unwelcome than perhaps I don't need to be here either. If anyone is unworthy it is me. I've been too afraid to make an idiot of myself going after her publicly when I knew what you would think and it wasn't clear that she would even acknowledge me. But what does it matter whether I look like a fool if I've got her in the end? I'm not worth anything if I can't put everything on the line for a witch like her anyway."

Eldred looked at Dreda, who was crying, and back at Wilfred without saying a word. Wilfred followed his brother's glance and when he saw Dreda he asked with displeasure, "Dreda, what are you doing in here?"

Dreda wiped her face with her tiny silk handkerchief and did not respond.

Wilfred's posture slumped as he walked across the room to put his arm round her. With his eyes on Eldred, Wilfred asked Dreda, "What is wrong, pet? Did we upset you?"

Eldred slowly crossed the floor and Dreda slipped free of Wilfred and threw her arms round Eldred saying, "Please don't. I know Rosa's mother should be dropped off a cliff, but Rosa can't help having a Muggle mother. Rosa is all witch, Eldred, and a wonderful person. Please."

Eldred looked down at his sister, who was clutching the front of his robes, and lifted his eyes to Wilfred. Wilfred stood awkwardly, waiting for Eldred to speak.

"I am not going to help you, Wilfred."

Wilfred held out his hand. "But I need your help, Eldred. I will never get her if the family continues like this. I need your approval, Eldred."

"I can't give my approval. I will accept it, but I won't approve it."

Wilfred placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "That won't be enough. She will know that you don't approve and will keep pushing me away. Why won't you help me get the one thing I want, Eldred? We have never refused each other anything before. If I want a witch whose mother is a Muggle than that is my issue, not yours."

Eldred looked away from Wilfred and down at Dreda, who was still standing close to him with her hand on his left arm. "What are you asking me to do, Wilfred?"

"Just to support me with the family and do what you can to make her welcome if I am even lucky enough to get her to come here."

"Right, fine." Shrugging off both siblings, Eldred stalked over to his desk and fell into his chair as if all of his energy had been drained.

* * *

In a strident voice, a dark-haired wizard built like a square and holding a very old Beater's bat called out, "Hark at the young one, Glenn. Don't half look like he could fly without a broom, do he?"

Another wizard with a similar build and wild blond hair turned to look where the first wizard had been pointing and laughed nasally, "You're right, Harris. Looks like Grant was right."

Marcus Flint, who was bouncily walking across the lawns of the Falmouth Falcons practice pitch out of earshot of the two beaters, and talking animatedly to one of his fellow Chasers who had a very hooked nose, suddenly laughed roughly at his companion's joke and threw his gloves onto the grass with his rucksack.

Harris laid his broom on the grass and shouted, "Oy, Flint!"

Marcus looked away from the wizard with whom he had been talking towards Harris and responded with surprise, "What?"

Whacking his bat against his hand menacingly, Harris called out, "Biggs tells me you skived off that practice yesterday."

Marcus shrugged and replied casually, "Yeah, so what's your point then?"

Glenn guffawed loudly. "You are riding high, aren't you, Flint?"

Biggs looked askance at Marcus before asking, "What are they on about?"

Marcus lifted his shoulders nonchalantly and bent down to pick up his gloves from the grass.

As he and Glenn walked towards Marcus and Biggs, Harris replied with a laugh, "Ask him who the dark-haired witch was that Grant saw him walking round Diagon Alley with yesterday."

Marcus shot a vicious look at Harris, but could not hide a smile as he laced up one of his gloves.

Biggs asked incredulously, "What, is it back on again with that bird you was going to marry?"

Marcus bent to pick up his other glove and replied in a slightly high voice, "Yes."

All three of the other wizards laughed jocularly and Glenn commented, "About time innit? We're all tired of seeing his miserable face, aren't we lads? He's been like a skulking Lethifold, this one."

Harris added sarcastically, "Of course now that the young one is all happily love-struck again we'll all have to do our part so the fans won't be disappointed by a drop in the number of game fouls, won't we?"

A middle-aged wizard, who had just walked onto the practice pitch, asked in a slow voice, "What is wrong with the number of our fouls? We're still highest in the league I thought."

Biggs snorted and replied, "They're winding Flint up, Haynes. He got back with his witch."

Haynes, who had begun swinging his arms round like windmills to limber up, replied, "About bloody time. My wife was asking me just the other day if I thought Flint would be interested in meeting her cousin. Narrow miss you've had, Flint, I tell you."

As all the wizards laughed, except Marcus, who was looking very red faced and uncomfortable, a booming voice called out, "Flint, you've an owl."

They all turned towards where Grant and Jones were walking out from the locker rooms and saw Grant holding out a pink envelope. Glenn asked brightly, "Hey Grant, is it _scented_?"

Marcus snatched the envelope from Grant as Biggs sniggered, "Might be another fan letter. Think they want another autographed picture?"

Jones rejoined, "If it is, Biggs, that's two more fan letters than you've got!"

It was clear that Marcus had completely forgot the other wizards round him as he avidly scanned the contents of the letter and said, "Bloody hell." The expressions on the other wizards' faces became somewhat more serious for a moment until Marcus exclaimed, "Brilliant!"

Biggs and Jones looked at each other and said smarmily, "Young love!"

Thumping Marcus on the back, Grant said, "Right, that's enough then. Time to get on our brooms, lads."

Marcus shoved the letter into his pocket as he and Biggs raced off to get their brooms from the broom cupboard.

"So what's so brilliant, Flint? She want to meet you after practice?"

Marcus shook his head. "She's still at Hogwarts, you idiot. And she's just passed her exam."

Biggs took several seconds to answer, "But exams were always in June."

Marcus laughed. "Well spotted. This wasn't an exam for Hogwarts. She just got accepted into the training programme for the Department of Mysteries."

"Bloody hell."

Marcus snorted. "That's what I said."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter** **25**

Julian Roubier stared disbelievingly at Terrence Higgs, who was sipping from a large mug of bitters, and asked, "He's still going to marry the Yaxley girl? I don't remember what she looks like, does she look like a Yaxley?"

Terrence shrugged, "Yes and no. Got the hair and complexion, but doesn't have that Yaxley nose which is alright on the Yaxley wizards but on the witches...eurgh. Anyway, she's got quite a figure under those robes, too. She isn't a beauty, but there is no reason Marcus shouldn't think he's got a right fit witch."

Julian pulled a face and joked, "And she chose Marcus? Didn't she get the Yaxley brains?"

Terrence laughed, but said seriously, "She got the Yaxley brains _and_ the Burke cleverness. She's going to be an Unspeakable. Marcus only just found out. Between you and me I think he's none too sure about that."

"Don't think I'd be to sure about it either. Imagine your witch being an Unspeakable, mate. You don't know what that lot get up to, do you? You can be sure an Unspeakable knows a dozen unpleasant ways to bump you off and no one the wiser. Wouldn't want to come home with Firewhisky on the breath to that sort of witch."

Terrence shook his head, "No, but Marcus would never dare do anything to upset her anyway. Now that he's got her back again he ranges between ecstasy over his good luck and terror that he'll do something brainless again."

Julian nodded. "I went to a Falcons match a fortnight ago. I've never seen him play so furiously. Eleven fouls and he looked like he wanted to kill that witch the Catapults play as Seeker. It was blatant that he was living in some sort of hell. Didn't know it was because he'd lost his witch."

Terrence shrugged. "If you came out with us more, instead of sitting round the bank all day looking important in those pinstriped robes, you might be more in tune with us, Julian."

"My bosses are goblins, mate, and frankly they aren't well chuffed that I wanted to slip out early for a drink with you lot today. Where is Marcus anyway? You're sure he is coming?"

"Yes, but he had to collect something at Scolletti's first."

"Scolletti's? I thought you'd said he already spent half of his inheritance on a ring for her?"

Terrence replied sourly, "She doesn't want it any longer. He's got to get her a new one."

"I suppose it didn't occur to her that he can't afford another ring."

Terrence shook his head. "Aren't you the one who told me that the Yaxleys have enough gold that they have a personal banking goblin? I don't think she has any idea how much rings cost or how he managed to afford the other one. I don't know how he is going to pay for this ring, but I'm not going to ask."

Julian shrugged. "Well, knowing Marcus he'd sell his classic Moontrimmer if he had to. No one was ever more deeply committed after taking something on than Marcus."

Terrence grimaced. "If he has to sell that Moontrimmer it would be a crime. All original charms, restored twigs, and the varnish on the handle has never been anything but hand waxed."

Julian nodded. "I know. I remember when his great uncle bought it for him when he made Quidditch Captain in the middle of our second-year after Weglund was banned. I thought I was lucky just to have made the team and he got Captain, the jammy beggar. But do you remember when he let us ride it? Bumpiest broom ride I'd ever been on, but once you got the feel of it you really could take some steep dives. Nothing like these modern brooms with all the Safety Charms."

Terrence sighed. "I remember. They don't make brooms like that anymore. Not that I'd want to play on one without the benefit of modern Braking Charms and all that, but you could really harness some of that raw power when there weren't all these extra charms for steering and sentience to get in the way."

"Talking about classic brooms?"

Terrence and Julian looked up and saw Marcus smiling at them with a large mug of red bitters in his hand.

Julian slid over on the bench and replied, "Right, your Moontrimmer 22. Still have it?"

As he sat down next to Julian, Marcus looked shocked. "What do you take me for? Of course I still have it. I'd sell everything else I own before letting my 'Trimmer go. But there's a bloke on the team who has an Oakshaft '81."

Terrence and Julian almost shouted in unison, "An Oakshaft '81?"

* * *

Speaking very sharply as she dropped into her seat, Wendelin commented, "Well that has to have been one of the longest Easter holidays ever."

Rosamunde untied the large shimmering scarf that she had wrapped about her neck and commented, "And it is hot in here, don't you think?"

Dreda, who had just settled her Kneazle's cage on the floor of the train carriage, replied, "No."

"That isn't the same one that you got for Christmas, Rosa."

Looking down at her lap where she had dropped the silk scarf, Rosamunde blushed. Hurriedly shoving the scarf, which had a scene of two large Chinese Fireballs engaged in a fierce battle woven into its cloth, into her pocket Rosamunde said dismissively, "That one was blue and I'm wearing red."

Dreda settled into the seat next to Rosamunde and commented dryly, "How lucky that he purchased you another one then."

Rosamunde looked away from Dreda at Wendelin, who appeared very strained, and asked, "Have Theseus and Icarus gone back to Portugal?"

"No, they are going into Ireland. My father feels that everything is safe now. But after talking to both Thes and Cary, I don't think it will remain that way for long. They are both of them very angry at where wizarding society is heading and getting progressively bitterer about the Ministry."

Dreda glanced up from settling her Kneazle in her lap and replied, "I was worried about Eldred and Wilfred joining them. Eldred would like to go, but Will won't."

Rosamunde added, "Well if Eldred did go to Ireland to get in with that crowd then everything is through for Will and me because Wilfred won't be parted from Eldred. I also don't know how long Wilfred is going to be able to resist your brother, Wen, who has been pressuring him to join them. There are about ten of them over there in Wexford now according to Wilfred."

Wendelin frowned. "Well Thes doesn't have nearly the influence on Eldred that Cary does on Wilfred, so Thes won't be able to convince Eldred to go without Wilfred. And you're enough to keep Wilfred from going, Rosa. You don't know it, but Wilfred attacked Cary on Thursday when Cary called you a dirty name. I've never seen Wilfred duelling in earnest before, but he has one of the fastest reaction times I've ever seen. If Eldred weren't slightly faster then Cary would have been seriously injured. Wilfred isn't going to listen to Cary if you are still together, Rosa."

Dreda's eyes were narrowed as she looked between Rosamunde and Wendelin. "Is that what happened? Wilfred wouldn't tell me where he'd got that cut across his cheek."

Wendelin nodded. "You know those silver fingertips that both Will and Cary wear? They sliced each other with them after Eldred and Theseus had expelled their wands."

Rosamunde groaned. "This was what I thought was going to happen."

Wendelin raised her eyebrows. "Well Cary deserved it. If Wilfred hadn't attacked him then I would have done. Although I would just have done a body bind or something. That curse Will used was just foul."

Rosamunde bit her lip and looked at Dreda. "Are you…do you think that…"

Dreda placed her hand on Rosamunde's arm and interjected, "If you really like Wilfred then Wen and I could not be more pleased about it."

"What about Eldred? Wilfred had a very nasty look when he came to meet me on Wednesday. I could tell he'd had it out with Eldred though Wilfred wouldn't tell me anything about it."

Dreda nodded. "Yes they had their wands raised and it got rough, but it has everything to do with jealousy and nothing to do with you. They settled it."

Rosamunde huddled into the corner of the train seat and said forlornly, "I do like him. I don't really know why."

Wendelin replied, "Because he is every bit as intelligent and strong-willed as you are, I should think. And of course he cleans up rather nicely."

Rosamunde didn't respond to Wendelin, but turned to Dreda and asked, "Are _you_ happy, Dreda? Are you sure that Flint is what you want?"

Dreda wrapped her arms round herself, tucking the hand newly adorned with a sparkling green stone under her elbow. "Yes. I knew the moment that I saw him again that I still love him. I don't completely trust him yet, but that will take time. I believe that he won't do anything when sober, but if he were to get that inebriated again then I'm not so sure."

Wendelin suggested, "I still think you should put him under a Fidelity Charm and tell him that you don't want him drinking anything stronger than butterbeer."

Rosamunde shook her head. "You can't tell a wizard not to have a drink with his mates, especially not a professional Quidditch player. They all go out drinking together and it will hurt his image with the team."

Wendelin snorted. "I don't care about his image with the team. I'm worried about Dreda."

Dreda sighed. "I want to let him choose. I want to know he is making the choice to stay faithful and not that magic is doing it for him."

Wendelin frowned and rolled her eyes, clearly having already discussed this with Dreda, but Rosamunde replied, "I think I understand. When I told Wilfred that I was afraid that…well it doesn't matter but although he offered I didn't want him to take any magical vows. It just…it isn't the same."

Both Dreda and Wendelin looked inquiringly at Rosamunde, but Rosamunde did not elaborate on what she had told Wilfred, so after a long pause Wendelin said, "Yevgeny is getting very possessive. He just couldn't understand why I didn't want to meet his mother already, and since I actually sort of saw his point I went for a brief tea on Sunday. It was exactly as awkward as I had imagined it would be and his mother does _not_ like me. But that wasn't the worst really. I didn't like what he told his mother about the magic he is doing for his seventh-year thesis."

Dreda cuddled her Kneazle closer as she asked, "What sort of magic, Wen?"

Wendelin shook her head. "I prefer not to say. It just surprised me that he is getting so serious about it. He and I had talked about the theory behind those spells and it is really fascinating, but to actually do it…I never thought he would really practise it. I don't know. I suppose it isn't so bad, because it is perfectly legal in many countries, but it just surprised me."

Rosamunde replied, "Did you tell him that you didn't like it?"

Wendelin nodded. "Yes, which upset him because he thought that I'd be excited. He was thinking that I would like to do some of the research with him and see the magic first hand when he tries it."

Rosamunde asked seriously, "Don't you?"

"Yes, it would be really interesting, but we are too young and far too inexperienced to be trying things like this. He's getting in so deep so fast."

Dreda and Rosamunde exchanged concerned glances as Wendelin hastily jumped up from her seat exclaiming, "I've got to get down to the Prefect's carriage! I'll see you after."


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter** **26**

Marcus dropped off his broom with a grunt and called over to the ruddy-haired wizard behind him, "I was thinking more of a side spin, Grant. When Pickens was Captain the Arrows used a defence where the centre Chaser would fall under the left wing Chaser, remember?"

Harris and Glenn, who had just landed on the pitch near Biggs, both wore sour expressions as they walked over to where Grant and Marcus were talking. Biggs looked at Glenn, who was swinging his bat and glaring at Grant, and grumbled softly so only the three of them could hear, "Someone is forgetting who the Captain is. I can't believe Grant hasn't mowed him down. He hates any interference in his plans."

Harris, despite looking extremely tired, sharply replied, "No, the young one is right. I remember that defence. Their right wing Chaser played very like Grant and Flint shoots much the same as Hodgens did. That might work."

As all six wizards congregated on the side of the pitch, Jones, who was leaning against his broom and holding the Snitch tightly in his hand, said only, "I don't care what might work. I'm not getting back on my broom today."

Waving to Haynes that he could stop flying in front of the hoops since there would be nothing more to defend against, Grant finally replied, "Anyone with a strategy to suggest is welcome. I know I'm good but I don't mind a little help. I remember that defence, Flint, and we might try that tomorrow. Jones, shout down to Ingles that the reserves can go on home, but that we'll need them during our practice again tomorrow."

Jones shot a look of surprise at Grant before raising his wand to his throat and commanding, "Sonorus!"

As Jones' magnified voice boomed across the pitch towards where the seven Falcons reserves players were huddled in a heated conversation, Glenn muttered, "Usually us who gets that job. What did Jones do to lose favour?"

Biggs eyed Grant, who was standing away from them and talking privately with Marcus. "He was late to practice, but he's always late. If he weren't Seeker he wouldn't get away with half that rubbish. Jones might be our star but that doesn't mean Grant can't put him in his place occasionally."

Harris commented, "First time for everything. But Grant told me that the young one is going to be the best player we've signed in a decade if he can get his witch troubles sorted and manage not to get himself hexed and left for dead in any more alleys. Frankly I don't think Grant is wrong if only Flint can keep his focus."

As they began walking towards the locker rooms, Biggs said, "You know who his witch is? A Yaxley."

The other wizards grunted with recognition as Haynes, who had just caught them up, asked, "Should I know that name?"

Glenn responded, "Right, you're Muggleborn, aren't you? The Yaxleys are a very old family known primarily for their gold, their virulent pure-blood prejudice, and their cruelty."

Harris stopped suddenly and said with alarm, "And their patriarch is standing right over there."

As Jones and the reserves players filed past them into the locker rooms, Haynes, Biggs, Harris, and Glenn watched Marcus slowly cross the practice pitch to where a tall wizard wearing very expensive black wool robes stood with one hand bearing a large ruby signet resting on the rail of the small viewing stands. The look on the older wizard's face as he waited for Marcus became increasingly saturnine as Marcus got closer until Haynes said, "Blimey, I hope the witch doesn't look like her father."

Marcus, however, was not thinking of his witch at all as he looked into Hunwald Yaxley's fathomless black eyes beneath heavy, furrowed dark brows and felt himself slipping into a state of panic. "Hello Mr Yaxley."

"Marcus, I understand that you and my daughter have renewed your relationship. In fact you have asked her to marry you again and without my approval."

Gripping his broom, which he had brought along without thinking, Marcus replied shortly, "Yes, sir, that is correct."

Hunwald pursed his lips so that the point of his beard seemed even sharper before responding, "You know that I have not approved this relationship and therefore you had no right to talk with Etheldreda no matter whether she wrote to you or not."

Marcus took a deep breath as he tightened his grip on his wand, keeping one eye on where Hunwald's wand hand was hidden behind the folds of his robes. As there was no possible response, he merely waited for Hunwald to speak.

Hunwald continued stiffly, "Most insulting, however, was that you dared to propose to my daughter without approaching me again for approval. You were certainly taught what tradition demands, Marcus. If you deny Etheldreda the courtesy due to her father then you are displaying towards her a lack of respect that is extraordinarily troubling."

Marcus had to force himself to stop grinding his teeth long enough to reply, "I would never want to show Dreda any lack of respect, sir, nor yourself."

Hunwald appeared both immensely bored and displeased as he responded, "And yet you make yourself very difficult to approach, Marcus, by Charming yourself Untraceable, making your flat Unplottable, and Apparating directly into the practice complex each day. You force me to come down here to look after my daughter's interests, although they should be your primary concern if you genuinely love her. In short, I fail to see your supposed love and reverence for Etheldreda in your actions, Marcus."

Marcus managed to croak hoarsely, "I can assure you, Mr Yaxley, that I want nothing more than to make your daughter happy. If you would name a convenient location and time, then my Jurisconsultant and I will meet you to discuss wedding arrangements."

Hunwald stared down at Marcus from the stands, his long hair falling forward to frame his cold eyes. "On Tuesday evening I will be at the Andromeda Society's London address. My Jurisconsultant and I will receive you in the public rooms after eight."

Marcus pressed two very white lips together when he heard where Hunwald wanted them to meet, but since he felt that the public rooms of the Society should be safe he answered, "Very well, sir."

"If your Jurisconsultant wishes to send any agreements for perusal to my Jurisconsultant before we meet, then you may have him owl them to Senior Benchman Interrogator Altair Shipley, Q.C. at the Outer Temple."

Marcus felt his heart sink as he replied, "Yes, sir."

Executing an extremely stiff bow, Hunwald turned on his heel and stalked towards the edge of the stands before encircling himself with a column of blue smoke and disappearing from view.

* * *

"I don't know how much longer I can stand working for the old bastard, Eldred. He's all too aware of the fact that we can't leave before Father agrees and has been holding this power over our heads every time he takes away one of our 'free' days or evenings to work on his rubbishing potion. And you know how I've always felt about Potions."

Eldred continued to peer out the long, narrow window of their study into the setting sun without giving any indication that he was listening to his brother. After waiting several seconds for a response, Wilfred got up from the dark red chair over which he had been sprawled and crossed the floor to stand next to Eldred.

"Look, we've been here since the end of August. I don't intend to remain here once Rosa finishes Hogwarts, so we won't be staying the year anyway. Why don't we cut out now?"

Eldred finally turned his head slightly to ask, "And go where? We can't go home yet and you don't want to join everyone in Wexford. Do you actually have a plan or are you just whinging?"

Glaring at Eldred's profile, since Eldred had turned back to watch the clouds as the sun set, Wilfred snapped, "I would like to go into Ireland, you know that. But I can't. How can I look Rosamunde in the eye if I've joined up with that lot to go taunting the local Muggles once we've drunk too much poitín?"

Eldred gestured with his wand so that his small silver cup was refilled with _tsikoudia_ from the bottle on the table and replied, "You'd look like a right bastard, which is why we are currently rotting here in Crete instead of drifting about Wexford and Kilkenny like our mates. You know that we really wouldn't be doing anything worthwhile if we were there, albeit we might have a good laugh and better company than we've got here with old Karatos. I'm bored, Will. I can't find anything that really interests me anymore, which is why I am about to get utterly pissed on this rotten _raki_ before I fall asleep well before ten. Everything bores me."

Wilfred watched his brother with concern for a moment before asking, "Are you bored because I'm preoccupied with Rosamunde?"

Eldred shook his head. "I've been bored for some time now. If I'm not numbing my mind with some useful substance or finding some decent mischief to be had then I can't escape the thought that it doesn't really seem as if anything is worth it anymore."

Wilfred sat on the windowsill in front of Eldred and said, "I actually know what you mean to some extent. Of course I can't say that I am bored because even if I have just written her and therefore have to wait a day to send the next owl, I always have Rosa's letters to reread now. But Rosa is passionate about so many things such as Quidditch, dragons, and those horrendous romance books she loves to read. The _only_ thing that I am passionate about is Rosa. Sometimes I wonder if I should have something else. After getting to know Rosa, I am starting to wonder if I am quite the wizard that I should be."

Eldred finished the last of his drink and lifted his wand again to refill it. "Honestly I don't know if you could spare the energy from your worship of Rosamunde to be interested in anything else, Wilfred. You are all consumed by her. Even now that she is writing back to you and has met you all of three times, you are gagging for more and miserable most of the time. It would be good for you to have another interest, but I don't see how you could."

Wilfred spun round and propped himself against the open window, looking out into the nearly dark sky and responded bitterly, "I didn't intend to fall in love with her, Eldred. You know how I fought it. I don't want to suffer like this, you know."

Eldred sighed and finished his cup in one quick shot. "But if you could have it wiped clean, would you?"

Wilfred's body twitched as he answered, "No. It doesn't work like that. I would not want to go back now. Then life really would be meaningless."

Eldred stared at the bottle as he decided whether a fifth goblet of _tsikoudia_ would be advisable and replied, "Yes it would. What will you do if Rosamunde goes to the reservation in Romania, Will?"

Wilfred leant further into his arms as he peered out over the rocky landscape below. "Oddly enough she isn't going. She doesn't want to be a dragon keeper. You would think that she would be perfect, wouldn't you? She can be as fierce as any dragon and is capable with her wand whilst also riding her broom, which you know isn't easy. But she says that there is a need for someone with a love for dragons to work for in the Ministry. She has applied and been conditionally accepted onto the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as the representative for the Hebridean Black. She just has to pass her NEWTs, of course."

Eldred looked interested. "Do they actually have someone specific for each sort of dragon?"

"Apparently. You wouldn't think that there was that much different about each dragon, but there must be enough. She said that they seemed quite pleased to have someone who actually wanted to work with the Hebridean Blacks, since the MacFusty clan is particularly unpleasant to most Ministry officials. However Rosa apparently wrote to them before applying to the Ministry and they've actually endorsed her." Wilfred was now looking directly at his brother with a wide smile and a slightly distant expression in his eyes.

Eldred seemed rather impressed as he said, "Did she now? That was very clever."

Wilfred cheerfully responded, "She does know how to get what she wants. She is going to make my life a living hell at times, isn't she?"

Eldred, who looked distinctly less happy about the prospect, nodded. "Yes, she certainly will. I hope that the highs will be worth the lows, Will."

Wilfred shrugged as he turned back to the window, fingering something in his pocket as he replied, "Well if they aren't it won't be because I haven't tried enough. I am willing to do nearly anything, I think."

Eldred peered at the hunched back of his more mercurial twin and sighed. "Flint wrote to me."

Wilfred spun about and nearly shouted, "What?"

"Father forced him to meet at Andromeda with Uncle Altair to negotiate settlements. Flint's father actually came in addition to their Jurisconsultant, but since Father had Uncle Edmond and Uncle Ecbert there as well it must have been a very nasty few hours."

Wilfred looked disdainful and said only, "Good."

Eldred frowned. "Heaven knows that I don't condone with he did, Will, but the idiot bastard does love Dreda and is willing to submit to any charm that Dreda requests. He would work his wand to the heartstring for her, Will, and she loves him. She won't be happy without him. I would think that you might have some understanding of that now that you're mad for Rosamunde Dawlish."

Wilfred shook his head. "He betrayed her."

Eldred sighed, "He does love her, Will."

"I can't believe that. There is nothing that could explain him sleeping with another witch."

"Have you never done anything you regretted when the whisky haze cleared away? Did you even read Father's owl? When he performed the Farānaj curse on Flint the only thing that Flint could see was Dreda's dead body in front of him. You know Farānaj is supposed to force the victim to live out all their worst memories at once as if they are real, but for Flint it was only that one. I suppose he must have encountered a Boggart once and it turned into a dead Dreda. Anyway Flint screamed until Father thought Flint was going to go completely mad."

Wilfred looked coldly at his brother. "Alright, I will allow that he loves her, Eldred. I also understand that she is silly enough to want him still. But I will never again consider Marcus Flint to be anything else but a faithless, despicable worm, who is no longer worthy to be called a wizard and I intend to treat him as such."

Eldred sighed. "You are as cold as Dreda when you turn aren't you? But Dreda hasn't turned on him, Will, and she will never accept your opinion of him. How are you going to explain to her why you won't be civil to her wizard, Will? You haven't been able to refuse our sister anything since she was born."

Wilfred's face was impassive as he replied, "Dreda will understand, Eldred. I will be only as polite to the tosser as I must in order not to hurt Dreda, but nothing more."

Eldred asked sarcastically, "Have you even met our sister, Will?"

Wilfred jerked his hand in a motion of indifference. "She will come to understand, Eldred, but neither of you will change my mind on this."

Eldred shook his head and replied finally, "Believe what you want, Wilfred. I think that I have drunk enough that I had better go to bed. The drink is going to catch me up very soon if I'm not lying down."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter** **27**

"Professor Moody is just a menace. Would you believe what he expects us to know and yet he won't actually mark our essays? He takes them in and we never hear anything more about it. I never before minded Defence but I hate it this year."

Both Wendelin and Dreda looked with surprise at the normally mild mannered Jonathan, who was angrily staring at the unfinished essay in front of him as if he were hoping that his thoughts would arrange themselves on the parchment merely because he willed it.

Wendelin answered seriously, "You don't like him? I admit that I was very unsure of him near the beginning of the year, but he is incredibly knowledgeable and his stories are very interesting even if he is odd."

Dreda nodded. "I think he is quite good, Jonathan. I have never learnt so much about protective devices, not even from Daddy. Professor Moody has been wonderful about working with us on predicting nonverbals, as well."

Looking up from a large green book, Dom frowned as he glanced at Jonathan. "They've said he was mad for years and I reckon they are right about that, but as long as he continues preparing us for the NEWTs I don't really care how odd he is. If you talk to him, Jonathan, he'll let you know if your essays are up to standard. Remember how he ripped into that Gryffindor Lesney last week? If you were behind he would let you know."

As she continued working on a labelled diagram of a somewhat lopsided and engorged Acromantula, Rosamunde commented, "Well I'm certainly glad that we didn't get anyone as useless as that great temptation for using the Big Head Baby Curse as we got in our OWLs year. Honestly I was quite afraid that after having a really decent teacher last year that they would chuck someone like Lockhart at us again."

All six Ravenclaws laughed and Norbert commented, "What I am glad about is not having to worry about Defence any longer, frankly. Arithmancy, Runes, Transfiguration, Charms, and Astronomy are enough."

Wendelin said teasingly, "You didn't mention Divination."

Norbert smiled. "That is an easy NEWT, that is. So is Runes, really, there are just so many assignments." Looking directly at Jonathan, Norbert said, "Astronomy is a bit soft but you never do know what they will toss at you in the exam, so it doesn't pay to get too confident there either."

Jonathan shook his head. "Nothing soft about Astronomy, mate."

Norbert laughed. "Not to you, but then you haven't had to work for Charms since fourth-year. All comes right out of your wand like silk, lucky bastard."

The other Ravenclaws all nodded or smiled. Jonathan's especial talent at Charms had been an accepted fact for years as was Norbert's innate skill with Astronomy. The best friends often teased each other about this, usually to the annoyance of their friends. Yet after months of awkwardness and distance between the members of the group, a semblance of normalcy was comforting to all of them.

However, two of the smiles disappeared as Norbert said jokingly, "Looks like your gallant Durmstrang approaches, Wen."

With a suddenly serious expression Wendelin looked behind her and saw Yevgeny Cherchenko walking in their direction. "Right. We are going to try out that Friedrich variation today. I suppose I'll have to catch you lot up in the common-room later then."

Dreda asked, "Did you want to leave those two books with us? I wouldn't mind carrying them back, since I might look through them."

Wendelin nodded. "Thanks. When you are finished with the Self-Correcting Ink, Jonathan, you may give it to Dreda for me."

Yevgeny Cherchenko was now standing beside Wendelin's chair and after executing a short, abrupt bow to the other wizards at the table and a friendlier bow towards Dreda and Rosamunde, he touched Wendelin's arm and asked quietly as he gazed intently at his petite girlfriend, "Do ve still try the Friedrich variation today, Vendelin? They have reserve room for Poliakoff, Sergeievna, and me to vork on the projects. Sergeievna she is vorking today also, so I am vanting to begin soon I think."

Wendelin smiled as she looked up at Cherchenko and replied, "Yes, of course. I'm ready if you are."

As Cherchenko took Wendelin's heavy bag of books onto his own shoulder and grasped her hand whilst they walked away, the silence at the library table was complete.

It was ten minutes before anyone spoke again. As Rosamunde dropped her quill onto the table she commented, "Eurgh, I detest nasty crawly things like Acromantulas. If only Professor Hagrid didn't think that they would have all this sort of creature on the NEWT exam. This must be the twentieth disgusting diagram I've made this week."

Jonathan said dryly, "Well as his only NEWT pupil, however, you must be getting the best possible preparation, Rosamunde, so don't expect too much sympathy. It is nearly impossible to schedule time to see Professor Flitwick for example."

Surprising the other students at the table, Dom snarled, "Or Professor-bloody-Snape. Not a bit of care does he have for any of us. There are only three students that he considers worthwhile in that class."

Since everyone at the table knew that Dreda and Wendelin were two of those three and why, the silence at the table quickly returned.

* * *

Rosamunde lay very still in her bed as she listened for any indication that the other girls in the dorm room were not asleep. Hearing only the steady breathing of Dreda and Wendelin on either side of her and intermittent snores from the direction of Philomena's bed, Rosamunde sat up and slid open her curtains. Quickly pulling a long grey cloak from underneath her pillow, Rosamunde shoved her feet into her slippers and got up from the bed.

Rosamunde had already wriggled into her cloak by the time that she had reached the stairs down to the common-room, so that her nightdress only showed slightly at the bottom as she walked. She pushed a hand into her pocket and pulled out a comb and a small mirror which she hastily used in the barely lit corridor before racing down the stairs.

As soon as she got to the common-room, Rosamunde dropped into the chair nearest the fireplace with a nervous look at her watch. She was late again. The first time it had been purposeful, since she had been determined not to appear any too eager to talk to him. But they had spoken three times via Floo now and this time she hadn't even made him beg before she agreed to speak with him tonight. She had really intended to be on time, since it was his birthday. She was sure that he would not have given up on her, even though it was twenty minutes past the time she had promised to speak to him, but she still felt nervous as she waited for his face to appear in the flames.

However when she heard the distinctive crackle of the fireplace signalling a Floo connexion was established, Rosamunde felt immensely relieved. As soon as she saw Wilfred's face appear in front of her, his dark brows furrowed heavily and an unhappy expression on his face, Rosamunde sat up in the chair and said apologetically, "I really didn't mean to be late, Wilfred. I fell asleep."

Instead of his usual greeting Wilfred said only, "Right."

Rosamunde got up from the chair and moved closer to the fire. "I _am_ sorry, really." Seeing that Wilfred was still looking very surly, she added, "Happy Birthday, Wilfred."

Wilfred replied tersely, "Thank you."

Rosamunde exclaimed exasperatedly, "Well if you don't feel like speaking to me then I'll just go back to bed, Wilfred."

His expression changing to one of alarm, Wilfred said, "Don't go, Rosa."

"Alright then don't be difficult. Did you get my owl?"

"No, did you send one?"

Rosamunde rolled her eyes. "Well obviously or I wouldn't have asked whether you got it. I sent it day before yesterday. All my other owls to Crete haven't taken more than two days. I wonder what went wrong."

Wilfred looked somewhat shifty and replied, "Well I'm not in Crete, actually. Eldred and I have left Master Karatos and we aren't going back." Rosamunde's appalled gasp was loud enough that Wilfred immediately added, "No, no, Rosa, love, we aren't in Wexford. I promised you that I wouldn't join them there."

Her cheeks still very red with anger, Rosamunde asked, "Then where did you join them?"

Even through the smoke and flames, Wilfred's pallid face appeared very sickly as he hastily assured her, "I haven't. That wasn't what I meant. Although Cary and Thes are here, it isn't like you might think. I haven't broken my word to you."

Rosamunde's eyes were narrowed to slits. "Where are you then?"

"KwaZulu-Natal. Uncle Edmond wrote to Eldred to invite us so we came here last week."

"You're in South Africa? Why?"

Wilfred raised a finger to his lips. "Rosa, it is alright. I promise. We are here to procure some ingredients for something that my uncle is working on."

Rosamunde stood up sharply. "His pet project, you mean?"

Wilfred stammered hastily, "No, no. Rosa, darling, do you honestly believe that I would be a part of that now? No, it is something else."

"I don't like the sound of this, Wilfred. You've got yourself into something nasty again, haven't you?"

Wilfred shook his head. "I'm not doing anything that would hurt Muggles, Muggleborns, or half-bloods nor anything else having to do with blood purity. I swear it to you."

Rosamunde turned away and faced the wall behind her as she tried to compose herself. "Even Dreda says that your uncle is bad, Wilfred. He is a horrid influence, even worse than Icarus Burke."

Rosamunde could hear Wilfred's sharp intake of breath behind her and prepared herself for the verbal assault. However when Wilfred said nothing, she turned about and saw that he was looking at her with a miserable expression on his face.

"Who else must I turn on to make you happy, Rosa?"

Rosamunde shook her head. "I don't want you to turn on anyone. If you still want to hang about with Icarus or you want to work with your uncle then you should. Only, if you still want to live that life, then I can't be associated with you, Wilfred."

Wilfred was almost pleading as he replied, "Other than Eldred, Icarus has been my closest mate since birth. I won't break that friendship even if I no longer join him in many of his beliefs. My uncle has been my mentor for almost ten years, Rosa. I am not doing anything wrong, I swear it to you. Cary and Thes are only here for our birthday, love."

Rosamunde dropped onto the chair and replied tearfully, "I'm so unhappy, Wilfred."

Wilfred spoke wretchedly, "Rosa, please don't cry. I'll leave in the morning for Durban and get a port key back to Heraklion if that will make you feel better. Eldred can stay to finish with Uncle Edmond and I can wait in Heraklion until our port key into Wales on Tuesday."

"It doesn't matter whether you are in South Africa or Crete, Wilfred. You're still far away and I have to skulk about in the middle of the night to talk to you without everyone knowing. How is this ever going to work?"

"It will work, darling. I'll adjust; I'll sort out what I need to do so you are happy."

Rosamunde sniffled as she tried to blot her face with her sleeve. "But that isn't fair to you either."

Wilfred gravely answered, "You let me worry about that, Rosa, love. I will tell you if I can't do something."

"No, Wilfred. I don't want you to go round changing who you are. What I need is for you to prove to me that I can trust you – that you will never let me down - and to feel sure that you are not embarrassed by my Muggle blood. You haven't convinced me of that yet."

Wilfred replied with chagrin, "I _was_ uncomfortable about it at first, Rosa. You know I was. I still can't like Muggles."

Rosamunde shook her head. "I know. That is utterly obvious."

"I don't know if that can change. Muggles are just not us. You aren't a Muggle either, Rosa. You have no interaction with the Muggle world, do you?"

"No, I'm nearly as uncomfortable with Muggle things as a pure-blood and I don't get on with Mother at all. I never have. But Muggles aren't lesser beings, Wilfred."

Wilfred wrinkled his nose. "They are entirely different from us though, Rosamunde. You consider yourself completely a witch, not at all a Muggle."

"That is true, but I also consider myself English and not Czech or French. That doesn't mean that I think we ought to wipe out everyone in the Czech Republic, Wilfred."

Wilfred nodded. "I know. I no longer think that way either, darling, and I have made that very clear to Eldred, my parents, my Uncle Edmond, and Cary."

"You wanted to go into Wexford with them."

"Yes, I wanted to make a little trouble, test out a few new curses, and generally act like a hooligan. Muggles are just much easier targets. But it was only a cruel bit of fun that would not have been any worse than what Muggle men do to each other when as drunk as we would have been. In fact when Theseus wrote Eldred that they had gone on a Muggle hunt in Kilkenny that was when I realised that my cousins have gone a different way than my brother and I."

Rosamunde looked nauseous as she cried, "A Muggle hunt? Oh, Wilfred, did they actually kill the Muggle?"

Wilfred shook his head. "No, no, darling. No, what happened was that the Muggle was stunned and 're-released into the wild' by dropping him into the middle of a Muggle town far from his home. But I have never thought that Muggle hunting was amusing, Rosa."

"No, just Muggle baiting?"

Wilfred answered hollowly, "Yes. I have done it. You know that."

"And you'd do it again if you could."

Wilfred replied with frustration, "Do you want me to lie to you, Rosa? I am not a nice wizard, darling, and I've never pretended to you that I am. If I had gone into Wexford then I would have got exceedingly drunk and cast a few spells at some Muggles. Never anything real or permanent and never Muggle hunting and we would have Obliviated them after. But I am not going to do it again because I have promised you never again to raise a wand to a Muggle except in defence. I don't break my word, Rosa."

Rosamunde looked disgusted as she said, "But the point, Wilfred, is that you don't see it as wrong to want to hurt people weaker than you. You are naturally a cruel person. Why would I want to be with that sort of wizard?"

Wilfred desperately replied, "That sort of thing is what I did before I had anything meaningful in my life, Rosamunde. But I am finding that I have a purpose now, so I don't want to just drift anymore. I have been trying to plan out a real life now."

Rosamunde's entire demeanour changed and she sat down on the hearth in front of the fireplace as she quietly responded, "Is that true, Wilfred?"

"Yes. Everything has changed for me, Rosa."

"What are you planning to do, Wilfred?"

Wilfred blinked with surprise at Rosamunde's unusually tender voice and said, "I have considered taking the position with the Committee on Experimental Charms. A friend of my father's has asked Eldred and me twice already to work for him there. Eldred would never do it, but I think that I might find it enough of a challenge to commit to it."

Rosamunde tilted her head and asked tremulously, "You would actually go to work for the Ministry, Wilfred? You told me that you could never bear to…"

"I know what I said, but I've said quite a lot of things in my life that I would prefer to take back now. I haven't had a chance yet to talk with you about this, but that was what I was thinking I might do."

"A job with the Ministry will be quite a change though, Wilfred. You can't just go off into South Africa when you feel like it and you'll have to get used to normal hours and stop drinking every night and…"

"Rosa, I can't do any of that if I am with you anyway. I wouldn't want to do that if I were with you either."

Rosamunde adjusted herself on the mat in front of the fire and said unsteadily, "You have changed."

Wilfred asked nervously, "But am I a wizard that you would want, Rosa?"

Rosamunde thought for a moment before she nodded and whispered softly, "Yes, I think maybe you are."


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

The mood in the Ravenclaw common-room, which at that late hour would normally have held at most four or five students working on homework for the next day, was nervous and expectant. Almost every available space was filled with white-faced, scared students clustered tightly together in hushed groups, waiting for further information on the tragedy that had occurred earlier that evening. As she looked over at a cluster of first-years, Wendelin hissed urgently to Norbert, "We have to send them all off to bed. We aren't going to learn anything further about Mr Crouch's murder tonight. We're the seventh-year Prefects; it is our job to do something."

With an exhausted grimace, Norbert nodded and stood up from his chair. He walked over to a group of sleepy first-years and began to quietly speak to them as Wendelin headed towards a cluster of second-years. As soon as they saw Norbert directing several droopy-eyed first-years to the stairs, the two sixth-year Prefects got up from their seats near the fire and began herding together some of the other younger students. Within a few minutes there was a mass movement of students shuffling solemnly up the dormitory stairs as the common-room began to quickly empty.

With his eyes on Wendelin, Dom gestured to Jonathan and Harold that they ought to go on to bed as well. Leaning round Harold, who was sitting between then, Rosamunde asked Dreda, "Shall we go on, too?"

Ignoring Rosamunde's question entirely, Dreda glanced over at the large armchair that Philomena Hood and Hannah Ford were sharing and said, "Philomena's mother was Mrs Crouch's youngest sister."

Surprised, Rosamunde followed Dreda's gaze and replied, "That means that Mr Crouch was her uncle?"

Dreda looked away from where her former friend was seated and responded to Rosamunde, "Yes. I don't think that the families were particularly close, but I do remember that Mr Crouch sent her a quite nice present at Christmas during first-year."

"I hadn't noticed it before, but she does look more upset than everyone else, doesn't she?"

Dreda sighed. "I suppose. I'll be back in a moment, Rosa."

Having overheard the conversation between Rosamunde and Dreda about Philomena, Jonathan and Harold paused in the act of pushing their chairs under the table and watched warily as Dreda walked over to where Philomena was huddled next to Hannah.

When she approached them, both Hannah and Philomena looked up from the parchment in Philomena's lap. Hannah asked frostily, "What do you want, Yaxley?"

After favouring Hannah with an exceptionally haughty look, Dreda turned to Philomena and said laboriously, "I wanted to offer you my condolences about what has happened to your uncle, Mena."

Looking rather shocked and confused, Philomena pushed herself up from the chair and replied hesitantly, "Thank you, Dreda."

Dreda's expression was devoid of warmth, but she continued, "If you are leaving to go to a family service then I will set a Copy-Quill Spell in Arithmancy for the notes."

Philomena stammered, "Th-thank you, but I…I don't think that I will be allowed to attend any services."

It was now Dreda's turn to appear surprised. The old pure-blood families like the Hoods or the Yaxleys still strictly adhered to the traditional mourning practices. A lack of mourning signified a complete disavowal of any relationship. Dreda stiffly replied, "I see. If you do find that you need notes then I will copy them for you."

Philomena looked as if she were going to begin crying as she said in a wobbly voice, "Thank you."

Dreda nodded curtly and then quickly returned to the table with her friends. Harold and Jonathan were standing carefully watching both Dreda and Philomena and Rosamunde was glaring at Hannah Ford, blatantly daring her to speak or even move. However, Dreda merely began to collect her papers as she spoke quietly, "I suppose that we ought to go up to sleep now, too. We are revising for predicting nonverbals tomorrow in Defence, aren't we?"

Dom replied sourly, "Yes. Professor Moody has said he is going to do a practical revision. We will definitely need our sleep."

By this time Norbert and Wendelin had returned to the table, since almost all of the other students had left the common-room. As Norbert and Wendelin hurried to gather their belongings, Dom leant forward to Wendelin and asked in a whisper, "Will you stay for a moment, Wen?"

Wendelin peered sharply at Dom and then gestured to Rosamunde and Dreda to go upstairs without her. Wendelin continued to shove parchments and books into her already filled bag, studiously ignoring the looks that her friends gave each other as they silently slipped from the room leaving her alone with Dom.

Without glancing up from wrestling with the catch of her bag, Wendelin asked, "What did you want to talk about, Dom?"

Dom regarded his ex-girlfriend seriously, but did not respond until she finally fastened her bag and looked up at him. "You know exactly what I want to discuss, Wen. I asked for us to take some time to think about things, but we never talked again and suddenly you had agreed to go to the Yule Ball with Cherchenko, you would not even acknowledge me in the corridors, and we were broken up."

"What did you want me to say? I thought about it all that night and realised that I could not give you the answer that you wanted. Therefore I felt that we were finished. Your feelings were made very clear to me that night, Dom."

Dom gripped the back of the chair in front of him as he replied, "I tried to give you some space for a few days. I didn't want to pressure you. Then suddenly Jonathan tells me that he'd heard you had agreed to go to the Yule Ball with a Durmstrang. Couldn't you have at least told me yourself, Wen?"

Wendelin's eyes were narrowed as she answered, "That was a week later, Dom and I had been avoiding you pointedly for days. You had to know it was finished."

Dom shook his head. "I think that I deserved for you to talk to me yourself. That was cruel, Wendelin."

Wendelin's lips were pressed together angrily. "I didn't want to talk to you. You had accused me of being a Dark witch. You don't approve of me and my magic."

Dom stepped closer and said gravely, "I don't believe that you are a Dark witch, Wendelin, I never did. I know your motives are good. I just don't feel that the ends always justify means."

Wendelin twitched away from Dom when he reached out to touch her arm. "I know that I should have talked to you, Dom. I handled that badly. But after I had time to think that night I was simply too humiliated by what you were implying about me as a person to want to have to speak with you. If you question my magic then you dispute my integrity."

Appalled by Wendelin's statement, Dom gaped slightly before replying, "I do not doubt your integrity, Wendelin. I told you then and I still feel that I can appreciate your motives. I just don't agree with your methods."

"You don't agree with me because you think that it is wrong on principle to use Dark magic. Therefore, since I do use it and am not intending to stop using Dark spells for protection, I must be a bad witch because I am doing something you think is wrong. There is no other way to see it, Dom."

"I said this then and I still feel that defensively using Dark magic is not wrong. It is excessive use of Dark spells or usage for personal gain that I don't like. I understand that you would want to defend those you love, such as Rosamunde, and I would never stand in the way of that. But taking the offence or using excessive force would be improper."

Wendelin shrugged and responded dourly, "Then it is definitely for the best that we are no longer together."

As she moved to leave the room, Dom placed a hand on Wendelin's wrist and pleaded, "Please don't leave, Wen. Are we really saying something so different? Neither of us would use the Dark Arts for personal gain. We would not want to harm anyone unless strictly necessary. Do you still feel that you would not place a limit on your own use of the Dark Arts?"

Pulling away roughly, Wendelin answered harshly, "Obviously not, Dom, or I would not have broken up with Yevgeny for refusing to restrict his magic from actually _practising_ what we had learnt about sanguinary expunction. That is why we are having this discussion, isn't it?"

Dom's face whitened. "No, I didn't know why you broke off the relationship, Wen, no one did. You two were actually researching sanguinary expunction?"

Wendelin nodded dejectedly. "Yes. Durmstrang seventh-years have a thesis that they must complete for their leaving certificate. It was very interesting to study, but almost the worst thing that I have ever seen in practice."

Dom shook his head disbelievingly and said, "I cannot believe that Headmaster Dumbledore allowed you to research something like that."

Wendelin looked uncomfortable as she explained, "Headmaster Karkaroff got the approval, Dom. Sanguinary expunction is legal in Scotland when performed on non-magical animals, so that was what Yevgeny used. But it was…I never imagined anything like that." Wendelin looked away from Dom to hide her expression as she continued haltingly, "He needed to try all of the permutations that we had calculated so he would have sufficient data for his thesis, but I could not…not after the first one…it was horrid."

Dom watched in dismay as Wendelin lost her control whilst she continued wretchedly, "He wouldn't spare the other rats and wouldn't agree that the spells were unnecessarily cruel even for something as nasty a rat. I couldn't be a part of it anymore, Dom."

"Of course you couldn't, Wen. He should never have asked you to participate in something like that."

Wendelin gripped her fists as she answered, "It is not his fault. I wanted to learn about sanguinary expunction. You remember that Professor Snape has said that there are some potions that can only truly be effective using ingredients procured with that method. I had always wondered how exactly it works and why it is so effective and once I had even thought that I should know the process in case one day I needed…but if you had seen it, Dom, you could never…"

Dom gently replied, "I know, Wen."

"I suppose that is the difference between being Dark and occasionally using Dark magic, isn't it? Whether you actually recognise the cost that is being paid, do not ignore from where all the power of the Dark Arts actually comes, and are unwilling to cause unnecessary pain."

Dom nodded. "I never thought of it that way before, Wendelin, but you are right."

"I am willing to pay a steep cost for some things, Dom. I will never hesitate to protect those I love. I would do more than you would."

Dom breathed out forcefully, "I have discovered these last few months that my principles were more fluid than I had believed."

Wendelin looked with surprise at Dom and asked, "What do you mean?"

"I never thought that I would actually consider cursing another wizard over a witch, Wendelin, but I not only thought about it, I seriously contemplated it."

"But you didn't do it."

"No, I didn't think that I could live with myself if I did. But I wanted to do it, Wendelin."

Wendelin replied softly, "But you did keep to your principles. You resisted the temptation."

Dom's face was very red as he said, "Yes."

"I am glad. I don't want you to become less of a person because of me in any way, Dom."

"Wendelin…"

Wendelin shook her head. "No, Dom. Not now. I think that the question of my magic was not really the only thing that was wrong with us before. We didn't really share equally and we weren't always honest with each other or else we would have discussed the subject of my magic months before."

Dom's cheeks were now dark red as he asked awkwardly, "Not now or not ever?"

"I don't know. We have both had relationships since we were together. We can't just start up again and expect things to be healthy."

Dom laughed grimly. "That Beauxbatons witch was not a relationship, Wen. That was nothing other than my reaction to finding out you were already seeing someone. She has a wizard back in France and I knew this when I asked her to the Yule Ball. It was window dressing, Wen."

"Oh. I really hated her."

Dom flushed again. "Wendelin, I know that we can't just pick up where we left things. But should we begin again?"

Wendelin sighed. "Not now, Dom. I can't now."

"I don't think that we can be just friends, Wendelin. I don't feel that way about you – my emotions are too strong."

"I am sorry, Dom."

Dom stared at Wendelin for several moments and then said curtly, "I understand."

Wendelin dropped her eyes and turned away to snatch up her bag. Following suit, Dom picked up his own school bag and waited for her to pass him on the way to the stairs.

As she placed a foot on the lowermost stair, Wendelin stopped and turned round to face Dom. "Wait. I don't want us to be this way."

Moving closer, Dom responded, "Neither do I."

"I don't know what we should do now, Dom."

"I do."

"I am not going to compromise, Dom. I still believe…"

Dom interrupted and stepped even closer as he said, "But you have seen in yourself what scared me and you have consciously chosen not to walk that path, Wendelin. You have answered the question I had to know. I believe that I can trust you to watch yourself."

"I don't want to be made to feel inferior because of what magic I study. I won't allow you to make me feel bad about myself, Dom."

"I never, ever wanted you to feel that way, Wen."

Wendelin resisted his presence by stepping back slightly as she responded, "I am going to be working at Gringotts in investment protection research. That isn't all clean magic, Dom."

"If you tell me that you won't do anything untoward then I will trust that, Wendelin. It is that simple. I have never doubted your word."

"I won't do anything that I consider dodgy, but I don't know what you would think. You don't know what might be necessary if someone I loved needed…"

Dom interrupted, saying huskily, "Wen?"

"Yes?"

"I said that I trust you."

Wendelin shrugged and replied with a blush, "Fine."

Dom whispered, "I missed you so much, Wendelin."

* * *

"Have you seen my sister, Dreda? Gerda and I have looked everywhere for her. We even asked one of the Durmstrangs if they knew where her boyfriend is, but he wouldn't tell us."

Dreda looked with surprise at Waldhilda Burke and said gently, "Wendelin broke it off with Yevgeny Cherchenko a fortnight ago, Hilda. She is dating Dominic Bradley again now."

Waldhilda's face turned red as she replied, "Why doesn't she ever tell us anything? We hear more about her through our mother than from her. No wonder that Durmstrang wouldn't talk to us."

Dreda sighed. It was well known to her that Wendelin did not speak very often to her sisters. Since all three of Wendelin's sisters were in Hufflepuff then they wouldn't even hear about her through intra-house gossip. "I'm sorry, Hilda. I'm quite sure she wasn't avoiding you three. She has hardly spoken with us either. She was very upset after that break-up and since she got back with Dom last week she has been spending almost every available minute with him."

Waldhilda frowned, "That doesn't sound like Wen at all. She doesn't like to display affection publicly or make her partialities so blatant. She is always warning us not to lay our weaknesses open."

Dreda experienced a sudden urge to smile, but instead said solemnly, "Well she is quite right about that, Hilda. You ought to be very careful about those things. But things are very different this time with Wen and Dom, Hilda. She actually lets him sit next to her at the dinner table now. I'm surprised you hadn't noticed that actually."

Waldhilda shook her head sadly. "I don't think that we pay any more attention to her than she does to us, Dreda. You are ten times closer to her than we are, you know. Well I suppose I might as well tell you, since you will want to know. It is about Theseus and Icarus."

Dreda felt the blood rush from her face as she asked sharply, "What have they done?"

Waldhilda looked round them to be certain they were alone. Dreda raised her wand and cast a strong Privacy Spell and urged, "Go on. Tell me."

"The Hit Wizards have taken in two of their friends – Bole and Greengrass. The Ministry are investigating whether the rest of that lot were involved in the incident. It was Muggle hunting. Of course my brothers must have been; you know that they would. Mother says that Davy Greengrass and Ethan Bole were followers not instigators, so the Ministry knows there were others. She thinks that the only hope is that Theseus and Icarus are clever enough to have hidden their tracks better than those two. The Ministry are tracking all owls to any siblings of anyone suspected, since it was an owl from Bole to his brother here at Hogwarts that set them on to Greengrass and an owl from Greengrass to his sister confirmed it. So Wendelin will want to be careful."

Dreda wiped her face with a shaking hand and looked at Waldhilda, who seemed calmer about the prospect of her own brothers being arrested than Dreda would have expected. Speaking more to herself than to Waldhilda, Dreda said agitatedly, "I don't think Will and Eldred were there. Rosa tells me that they were in South Africa during the Muggle hunt. I doubt they would have had a second Muggle hunt already."

Waldhilda squeaked, "You knew about the Muggle hunt?"

Dreda nodded. "After the fact, of course. Wilfred told Rosamunde."

"He told her even though her mother is a Muggle? That sounds…that is just stupid."

Dreda looked angry. "He wasn't involved. They weren't there, so why shouldn't he tell her?"

Waldhilda placed her hands on her hips. "Well if they weren't there it is only because of Rosamunde's influence on Wilfred. You can't pretend that they wouldn't have taken part if they could have done."

Dreda's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Do you think so?"

Waldhilda seemed surprised as she said, "They aren't much different from my own brothers, Dreda."

"Don't be so sure, Hilda. Both our sets of brothers have changed recently. Anyway, Wendelin is in the Ravenclaw common-room with Dom. Did you want to speak to her or were you just passing on this bit of news?"

With a frown Waldhilda handed a scrolled length of parchment to Dreda. "Let her read this. Mum is hoping that Wendelin knows more about what Theseus and Icarus have been doing than the rest of us do. She is the only one to whom they write."

Dreda looked sympathetically at Waldhilda. "They don't really write that often to Wen either, Hilda. They used to do so more often, but she has ticked them off enough times about their activities this last year that they don't seem to want to correspond with her very often anymore."

Waldhilda tilted her head and regarded her cousin with interest. "Has she really? She always defends them to the family."

Dreda smiled sorrowfully. "I do just the same with Eldred and Wilfred, Hilda."

Waldhilda shook her head. "Do you know anything about this, Dreda?"

Dreda sighed. "I know that they were there, yes. Thes organised it."

Waldhilda's eyes filled slowly with tears as she whispered. "They are horrid. If they aren't caught now then they'll only do worse, won't they?"

"I'm sorry, Hilda. I really am."

Taking a deep breath, Waldhilda gasped, "Tell Wendelin that the parchment is coded with the usual spells and I won't tell anyone anything about Thes or Cary. I think she had better lie to Mum, too." Then Waldhilda flung about on her heel to run sobbing from the library.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Although she could hear Norbert behind her whilst he spoke kindly to a first-year girl who was crying hysterically, Dreda tried to focus her own attention on the pretty blond fourth-year in front of her. Tabitha Rennie was a Muggleborn, so it was not surprising that she would be very scared about the rumour that Harry Potter had claimed that it had been the Dark Lord who had killed poor Cedric Diggory. As she tried to convince the badly frightened fourth-year and the girl's two friends that there was probably no cause for concern, Dreda knew that she was lying. She very much understood Rennie's fear, since her own concerns for Rosamunde were very real and deep because Dreda had no doubts that Harry Potter had been telling the truth. The Dark Lord _had_ risen again and the entire wizarding world would soon change.

Finally feeling that she had done enough to calm Rennie and the other fourth-year girls, Dreda looked about to see who else she ought to help. Since Wendelin had gone to be with her sisters, Dreda and Rosamunde were temporarily taking over Wendelin's prefecture duties. However several other seventh- and sixth-year students were also talking to some of the younger ones. It wasn't that any of them felt less scared or apprehensive, since they knew even better than the first or second-years what was likely to begin happening. The truth was that in comforting younger students the older ones were able to convince themselves that they were more in control of their fear than was really true.

Noting in passing that Euan MacDiarmid was for once not in the library with his redheaded Hufflepuff girlfriend, but sitting quietly beside Harold, Dreda sat down next to Jonathan and asked quietly, "Did you talk to Hestia?"

"Yes. I didn't know how she would take it, since she is a Hufflepuff, but she is alright actually. That blond witch with whom you are friendly and the dark-haired girl that follows her everywhere have taken most of the fifth- and sixth-year witches under their wing."

"I'm not surprised; Patience Kent is a very nice girl. She has helped me out once or twice. But I must say that I was relieved she didn't score well enough to take NEWTs History or Potions because helping tutor her was an immense challenge. I don't like her fiancé much. You remember Bobby Fleming? He was one of ours but he finished last year."

Jonathan grimaced. "Yes, he was a devious blighter and I always thought he was open for a better offer. Kent is beautiful, but her family isn't one of the old ones."

Dreda looked sharply at Jonathan. "I hope you are wrong, Jonathan. If you know anything specific, you have to tell me. I like Patience Kent too well not to tell her if Fleming is after another witch."

"I never understood your friendship with Kent. She always seemed like the sort of witch from whom you and Wendelin would make minced meat."

Glancing sharply at Euan, whose girlfriend was very close friends with Patience Kent, Dreda first assured herself that Euan was not listening before she replied in a low whisper, "She is a very kind witch, Jonathan, and I've told you that she has helped me out twice when I really needed it. Yaxleys always pay their debts, Jonathan. Do you know anything specific about Fleming?"

Jonathan raised his brows, but answered softly, "No. It was just an idea that some of us had that Fleming would have preferred to trade up."

Dreda scoffed. "Well she is almost as lovely as Drusilla Crownes and her family has enough gold that even my mother is willing to ignore that they have two squibs in the family - and several Muggleborns - long enough to speak to Morag Kent socially. Fleming won't do better."

Jonathan looked away from Dreda and said tersely, "Not everyone would agree, Dreda. But it doesn't matter."

Dreda looked surprised and started to speak when she saw that Wendelin had just returned with Dom at her side.

Since she had also seen Wendelin enter, Rosamunde stood up from the floor where she had been kneeling next to two white faced second-years and hurried over to the table where Euan, Jonathan, Harold, and Dreda were all sitting. She reached them at the same time as Wendelin and Dom and asked, "Is Trada doing alright? She looked terrified."

Wendelin sat down in the seat that Dom had pulled out for her and replied, "We gave Trada a calming draught. The Hufflepuffs are taking it very hard. I know that Diggory was popular, but he seems to have made an unusually strong impact on all of the Hufflepuffs."

Dom nodded. "Diggory was a very good sort on the Quidditch pitch certainly. I would imagine he was very well liked in his house, but I was surprised to see how the Hufflepuffs are taking it. We saw Chang and Edgecome in the Infirmary, whilst we were waiting for Trada. Chang is completely distraught."

Rosamunde's face was extremely pale as she said, "They were dating still, Dom. She ought to be devastated."

Dreda blanched as she considered the horror of actually seeing your wizard's dead body in front of you, which Chang must have done at the site of the third task, and said uncertainly, "I wish they hadn't closed the Floo connexions. I understand why they did, but just knowing that we can't Floo to speak to anyone makes it seem more isolated here."

Wendelin looked askance at Dom, who had just placed his arm round her, but did not shrug him off as she normally would have done, and answered, "You can imagine the pandemonium if we were allowed to Floo to speak to our families. But additionally they will want to control the flow of information, of course."

Norbert pulled a chair over next to Jonathan as he replied, "Naturally. As students we are meant to know only what they will deem safe. I wouldn't think that they can have sorted out what they want for us to actually know yet."

Harold nodded and said, "You Prefects will have to send everyone to bed again. It won't do any good to sit up all night. We're all still tired from revising for exams."

Euan commented dryly, "They do call them 'nastily exhausting wizarding tests' for a reason."

Jonathan and Harold smiled half-heartedly at Euan as Dom spoke in a low voice to Wendelin, "You're tired, Wen. Why don't you let Norbert and I talk to everyone?"

Wendelin shook her head. "It is my duty, Dom. But I agree with you Harold - we ought to send everyone up. I'll need to pack my trunk tonight, too, so let's herd them up now, Norbert."

Dreda looked to Rosamunde and commented, "We had better pack ours, as well, Rosa. Daddy will probably be here right after breakfast."

Norbert asked in surprise, "You lot are leaving early?"

Dreda shrugged and spoke in a tone that implied that the answer to Norbert's question was obvious, "Daddy doesn't think that it is safe here for me any more and wants me home with him. Uncle Hubert is coming for Wendelin and her sisters for the same reason. Additionally, Daddy has offered to collect Rosa for her family."

Rosamunde said softly, "Wilfred will have worked on him to do so, of course. But why wouldn't we leave, Norbert? Our NEWTs are finished. All there will be for this next week is mourning and gossiping over what happened with Potter, Diggory, and He-who-must-not-be-named. It will be a horrid, unbearable sort of week, I should think. I imagine that dozens of parents will be coming to collect their students early."

Harold exclaimed, "But it is our last year! You'll miss the leaving traditions."

Dom shook his head. "I don't think that those are going to be quite the same this year, Harold. None of us will feel like celebrating very much. Our seventh-year has been unusual from the very beginning."

Norbert looked disappointed as he said, "But your Prefect duties, Wendelin, you'll be needed this week."

Wendelin asked sincerely, "Do you really need me to stay? If you seriously feel that you require my help, then I will remain and leave on the Hogwarts Express."

Norbert frowned. "I suppose not. There are four other Prefects besides you and me. I can handle it."

Wendelin gestured at Norbert as she asked again, "You are sure?"

"Yes. If your family wants you to return home then you should go."

* * *

Since her Uncle Hubert was busy speaking with his two youngest daughters, Wendelgerda and Waltrada, Dreda looked to her own father and whispered, "Where is Uncle Edmund now, Daddy?"

Hunwald looked sharply at his daughter and with a slight tilt of the head in Rosamunde's direction answered repressively, "I don't know, Etheldreda." He then turned his attention to Waldhilda Burke, who had her arm round her youngest sister Waltrada, and he asked in a more encouraging voice, "How do you feel that your OWLs went, Waldhilda?"

With a glance at her own father in the seat across from her, Waldhilda answered nervously, "I think that I remembered everything. I am pretty certain that I should score well. Not like Wen and Dreda did, of course, but I think I at least got an E in Transfiguration and probably an E in Charms."

Hunwald smiled and replied, "You are trying for five OWLS, correct?"

Waldhilda nodded. "Yes, sir."

Hubert Burke patted Waldhilda's knee and said seriously, "You will do very well, Hilda, as you always do."

As the long, sleek black car turned off Broad Drove onto the long, winding lane that led to Ethelwulfburga, the massive grey stone estate that had housed 27 generations of Yaxleys, Waltrada sat up in her seat and exclaimed, "Oh, we're almost there!"

Rosamunde, who had been almost cowering into the deep plush seat of the Yaxley's wizard-modified Bentley since the driver had collected them at the train, lifted her eyes and craned her head to peer up the drive.

Wendelin nudged Dreda and they both smiled encouragingly at Rosamunde as the car wound its way up the heavily wooded path to the house. Dreda softly said, "We can Floo your parents when we get there, Rosa. I'm sure they won't mind if you stay for a day or two."

Rosamunde bit her lip and responded absently, "Mother will." She began to rearrange her robes and checked her reflection nervously in the window as she continued, "She will want me safely home, Dreda."

Wendelin and Dreda looked at each other and tacitly agreed not to press Rosamunde. They both knew that their friend's mother was likely to be in a blind panic now that there was a rumour that You-know-who was back.

"Oh, there's Mummy!" Waltrada screeched as she wrenched open the heavy door to the car and raced forward to where Althea Burke was standing with her arms open.

The rest of the inhabitants of the car waited for the extremely skinny, spotty young wizard who had been driving the car to come round to the side of the vehicle and begin helping the witches from the car. Wendelgerda and Waldhilda also rushed forward to their mother as soon as they exited, but Wendelin and Dreda both stood next to Rosamunde near the car.

Approaching her daughter, Wulfrida placed both hands on Dreda's cheeks and asked unsteadily, "You are alright then, child? Everything is alright, Etheldreda?"

Surprised to see such a force of emotion in her mother's eyes, Dreda replied, "Yes, Mother. No one else was harmed. We are all fine."

However Dreda sharply turned her head away from her mother as she heard Rosamunde whisper breathlessly, "Wilfred!"

Whilst the Yaxley and Burke families watched with varying reactions, Rosamunde flung herself towards where Wilfred was standing next to his twin. Wilfred, whose normally sallow complexion was sickly white as he folded Rosamunde into his arms with a guttural grunt, closed his eyes tightly and rasped, "Rosa."

Dreda turned back to her mother and saw that Wulfrida was staring at Wilfred with a stunned, arrested look in her eyes. Hunwald placed his hand on his wife's arm, causing her to look up at him, and Dreda witnessed with surprise the nonverbal interaction between the two. Having acquiesced to her husband's wish, Wulfrida collapsed slightly into the arm that he wrapped round her back and turned her face towards Dreda to say faintly, "You have…an owl waiting for you from Flint, Etheldreda. There is a box with it. Go and greet your brother Eldred and then I'll have Sipsy bring you Flint's parcel."

* * *

Eldred lifted one dark green envelope closed with a heavy black seal and said sardonically, "This one is likely to be a proposal for investment in either importing from a dodgy company in an even dodgier area of Europe or some odd scheme with someone Theseus thought I might like to 'help'. I don't know why I bother opening most of them, Dreda. Very few are of use to me and none of the wizards that Thes sends my way ever are."

Dreda looked into the gleaming ebony box on the far end of Eldred's desk as she replied, "Well you wouldn't trust Theseus for any business sense, would you? You are only just starting your investments, Eldred. Once you can build your contacts then you will hear about better opportunities for profit."

Eldred scowled as he jabbed his wand at a scrolled parchment in the ebony box. "New Oceanic Travels – investigating magical sea creatures with real merman guides." Tossing the scroll into the roaring flames of the fire beside Dreda he pointed at another scroll. "Ernestine's Special Garment Care – home delivery laundry service for wizards without house elves." Flicking his wand so that the scroll flew into the flames, Eldred nudged another scroll with his free hand. "Hire-A-House-Elf – older pure-blood families who have fallen on hard times will hire out their house elves to any witch or wizard with enough gold to pay for the privilege."

Dreda wrinkled her nose. "That's disgraceful. The house elves do have a sense of honour. Imagine hiring them out to work for undesirables - Muggleborn families, perhaps."

Eldred flung the scroll into the fire and replied, "Yes, I have told Erickson what I thought of it and he won't try any other investors. You can be certain of that. I do have two new possibilities in addition to the one that I have already accepted."

"What are they?"

"One is a direct to your home broom servicing. Rather decent idea, actually. I want some more information about the business plan, but I think I might go ahead on that one. Very small investment really, only 3000 galleons. I also liked the letter that I got from a witch who has developed a line of toys and treats for Crups and Kneazles. The rubber severed head for Crups did very well with Mother's new Crup. He has eaten the special line of treats with pickled Whargle's foot, when Mother can't get him to eat any other pre-prepared treats. There is a box of Kneazle items that I had the witch send for you to give to Wolfram."

"Oh, really? I can't wait to see them. That sounds brilliant."

"I'll show them to you later."

"Alright. Speaking of Mother's Crup, I don't much like Thigpen, do you? He is vastly stupid. I know that since Seth has only just got the Pecoin problem under control now Daddy had to purchase from the first litter available to please Mummy, but there must have been enough selection for Daddy to have chosen one that knows not to eat shoes. Between Daddy's hat-eating Augurey and Mummy's footwear-munching Crup a witch's wardrobe isn't safe any longer."

Eldred laughed. "We have always had a menagerie of poorly behaved animals, Dreda. Seth is the most decent Runespoor that Father has ever kept really. Do you remember Ashtoreth?"

Dreda grimaced. "The one that liked to coil herself on my pillow to surprise me at night? How could I not remember? I wasn't sad when Aunt Althea's wolfhound ate her."

Eldred smiled. "Exactly so."

"How are the investments that you made when you were still at Durmstrang doing?"

Eldred shrugged. "Well enough. I have doubled my gold on a few of them. I have several interests in that region of Europe that I shall probably continue long-term. But those were small concerns that I thought were safe for a beginning. Now I need to find more interesting, larger investments, Dreda."

Dreda laughed, "Do you want to fund Marcus' team Captain's pet project? He is retiring after this season and has been working on an idea for a Charmed parchment that reports on Quidditch games round Britain and Ireland. Marcus seems to think that it is a good idea although I can't imagine why anyone needs quite that much detail about Quidditch to be available at all times."

Eldred frowned. "What exactly do you mean a Charmed parchment?"

Dreda rolled her eyes and replied, "I don't know. I thought it was a silly idea, so I didn't pay much attention. I think that the parchment would provide detailed statistics for whatever team to which you subscribe or something like that."

Eldred tilted his head and replied in a thoughtful voice, "That isn't such a bad plan actually. Tell Flint to have Grant send a prospectus to me if he is serious."

Dreda cast an incredulous look at her brother. "You wizards like the oddest things."

Eldred smiled broadly. "Not nearly as bizarre as smearing strange potions over your face simply because the label claims that it will work a miracle."

Dreda snorted. "True, but we wouldn't do that if wizards didn't focus so much more on a witch's beauty than her brains. Luckily for me Marcus is certifiably blind when it comes to me so I don't need to use the sillier sorts of potions like Mother does."

Eldred glowered slightly as he sharply asked, "What do you mean? He doesn't notice how you look?"

Dreda giggled, "Eldred, he tells me quite seriously that I am the most beautiful witch he knows. Which is ridiculous, since I'm not even pretty really. On a good day I might be called attractive, perhaps. He's completely mad, but I don't really think that I mind."

Eldred shook his head. "You are too much of a Yaxley to be beautiful, pet, but Flint isn't the only wizard who thinks you are very attractive. He really does worship you though, doesn't he? When does the team come back from their tour of Africa?"

"Tuesday. I can see him on Tuesday."

"That will give you several days with him before the meeting on Friday then. I cannot say that I am looking forward to that at all."

Dreda sighed. "No, especially because I rather hate my prospective father-in-law and I think that Mrs Flint doesn't really like me."

Eldred stared at his sister as he asked, "What makes you think that? There is nothing that Celestina Flint would not do for her son, pet, and Flint's entire world revolves round you seemingly. She can't possibly think that Flint could do better than a Yaxley _and_ our mother is a Burke."

Dreda leant forward slightly so that Eldred noticed for the first time the dark shadows under her eyes. "But you see, I am not controllable, Eldred. Not only can she not expect to be able to manipulate me she must know that I will have considerably more influence over Marcus than she ever had."

Eldred settled into the green leather back of his chair and considered his sister for several moments before replying, "Yes, that is true. But Wilfred and I have wondered about something, Dreda. Does he have that level of influence over you? Will yours be an equal relationship or will it always be so one-sided as it is now?"

Dreda reached over to the small table at her side and picked up a goblet that was nearly half full of Aphigorial Nectar and took a long draught before answering. "It isn't one-sided. I don't think that there is anything at all that I would not do for Marcus if it were truly necessary, Eldred. I have been a little afraid of how it will be when we are married because then I won't have any excuses to keep up the steep barriers that I have built round myself for protection. I am not certain of how well I would manage myself, but even more I fear that he will control me. Marcus is by nature a brutal, domineering, and jealous wizard. I do not know how much advantage he would take of my willingness to please him if he really knew how I feel about him."

Dreda took another sip from her goblet without looking at her brother and then set it back on the table before turning her eyes to Eldred's face. His expression was inscrutable as he said, "I don't think that any of us knew you felt so deeply for him."

Dreda pursed her lips and tilted her head inquiringly. "Did you think that anything other than the very deepest love could make me take him back after he betrayed me, Eldred?"

"I didn't really know, Dreda. But you won't be in a hurry to show him how you really feel, will you?"

Dreda laughed cynically, "No, I won't. But if he looks for signs they will be there."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Marcus tossed himself onto the chair across from Terrence and said with a grunt, "I miss _playing_ Quidditch."

Terrence stopped in the middle of pouring a large goblet of Bloodwhisky and asked sharply, "What?"

"I mean playing for fun, not for my life. I do love what I am doing, the constant challenge and the struggle for dominance. It is exactly what I am meant to do because I'm good enough to win. But there was always a difference between what we did for Slytherin and what we did during the holidays for fun, Terrence."

Terrence returned to filling his goblet with a look of relief. "Right. You know I miss that, too. But not for the same reason. Those matches were still a fight and that is what I miss. My position with the Ministry is too easy. It is a good job because it will be an excellent stepping stone towards where I intend to go, but I am bored, Marcus."

Marcus shrugged. "Not surprised. Working at a Ministry job has always sounded like a punishment to me. It would be nice to see the lads again, too."

Terrence nodded. "Want another?"

Marcus shoved his glass towards Terrence with a curt nod and said, "I wish we could get together casually to play once a month or something like that, but I'm not allowed to play Quidditch if I'm not with the team. I can't even practise except in approved locations."

Terrence shook his head knowingly. "Naturally. Have they restricted you from all broom sports or just Quidditch?"

Marcus' eyes lit up and he smiled broadly as he replied, "Just Quidditch. What do you have in mind?"

"Well Aingingein would be fun. But it isn't easy to play here in England, especially since the only one of us who is Irish and would therefore know the charms to set up the barrels is Ethan, who of course is still rotting in his cosy cell at Azkaban right next to Davy. So perhaps Quodpot. There has been an interest lately in the game and those American exploding Quaffles are purchasable in Quidditch supply catalogues now."

"Yeah, I've played it. We have occasionally had a game with the team. Helps to loosen us up a bit."

Terrence gestured impatiently, "So what do you think?"

Marcus downed the last of his drink and refused when Terrence tipped the bottle towards him. "No, can't get drunk." Staring at the wall behind Terrence, Marcus answered slowly, "I think it is at least half a good idea. The problem is going to be scheduling and getting together enough of the lads to really make it worth doing. I'm not going to waste my time with anyone that didn't play for Slytherin…perhaps Ravenclaw if you and I liked them. And the Durmstrang lot are fine if they are interested. But not the Burkes. That crowd is trouble right now, Terrence. If they came on board that would change this to something with which I can't afford to be involved."

Terrence raised his brows. "You're marrying into that lot, Marcus. Don't know how you can avoid it."

Marcus grunted. "I never liked the Burkes. No one really does. Naturally I am not going to make enemies of them, but that doesn't mean that I have to invite them to join us for a game either. Even Wilfred and Eldred have begun distancing themselves from the Burkes."

Terrence blinked in surprise. "You are serious? Icarus Burke has always been able to play Wilfred Yaxley like a fiddle."

Marcus shook his head. "Not when Eldred lifted a finger to stop it. And that's what he has done. Not only that, Wilfred got himself engaged yesterday to Rosamunde Dawlish and her mother is a Muggle. His witch won't let him get involved with that lot now."

Terrence dropped his glass onto the table with a loud bang. "Wilfred Yaxley is marrying a witch with a _Muggle_ mother? Why don't I remember this witch? She must be stunningly beautiful, since a Yaxley wouldn't be needing gold and that's the only other excuse."

Marcus sneered, "Dawlish is beautiful, no doubt. But that isn't it, Terrence. That wouldn't be enough to make Wilfred go against his family. But he got his way and so unfortunately Dawlish is going to be my sister-in-law. You really don't remember the blond witch who was the reserve Keeper for Ravenclaw? She was the one had a duel with O'Keefe, who was two years behind us, and gave O'Keefe green horns for a week."

Terrence choked on his whisky and as soon as he could stop coughing asked incredulously, "_That_ is the witch Wilfred is marrying?"

Marcus barked with laughter. "Right. And even more luckily for me she is Dreda's best friend. In addition to Wendelin Burke."

Terrence was still coughing as he struggled to say, "Well we've all known since the start that you were buggered." Terrence gestured with his wand and a goblet of water appeared before him from which he immediately took a long drink. "Anyway, your witch seems to have a strong enough mind of her own. I doubt she needs a Burke or this other witch that has got hold of Yaxley to make your life interesting."

Marcus looked for a moment as if he was going to pull his wand, but then relaxed and laughed shortly. "She does know what she wants. You know. You were there last Friday."

Terrence nodded and tersely replied, "Never felt like such a Mudblood in my life."

Marcus scowled. "I haven't been accused of having anything less than a half-blood in my family for 8 generations, Terrence, and I still felt inferior. That family dragged out every mouldy tradition and betrothal condition possible. At first I thought it was all her father's idea, but it wasn't. She wanted all of that."

Terrence shuddered. "Even the vigil?"

"Yes. She says that no witch has been married in her family without full rites and tradition since the reign of Richard the Crookback. I'm not sure who that was, but I understood her point well enough."

"I think that was a Plantagenet king, so probably mediaeval."

Marcus tossed his hands in the air. "I'm so well buggered."

Both wizards sat silently in the dark sitting room of Terrence's flat until Marcus asked uncertainly, "You'll still do it, Terry?"

Terrence leant forward and replied in a stern voice, "I have never broken faith with you, Marcus. I'm not going to pretend that I had any idea what agreeing to stand as your best man was going to mean. But I did have an idea that the Yaxleys would expect some of the older traditions, Marcus. I wouldn't let you do it alone, mate."

Marcus started to speak, but Terrence cut him off saying almost angrily, "Look, I don't want us to speak of this again, alright? But I know that I owe you for what you did that day at the beginning of first-year after we'd met on the train. Everyone knew my parents were Muggleborn. You certainly knew and yet when you were Sorted first you saved me a seat, since I'd said I hoped to be in Slytherin too. We both know what you risked socially, Marcus, and that your friendship meant I wasn't ostracised. So if it is easier for you to think of this as repayment, then look at it that way. But I'd probably do it anyway, so it doesn't matter why. I'll look out a copy of the _Chivalric Wizard's Code of Honourable Behaviour_ tomorrow, so we can try to avoid some of the nastier pitfalls ahead of us."

Marcus shoved his glass away from him, since it was still empty and he daren't refill it, and replied brusquely, "You repaid me years ago, Terry. And I have a copy of that bloody book somewhere. My godfather gave it to me when I entered the forth year."

Terrence nodded. "I had one too, although it was my father who gave it to me. I used its pages to line my owl's cage during the summer between fifth and sixth."

Marcus smiled as he replied, "I still have mine. Probably has a perfectly creaseless spine, since I know I never opened it."

Terrence slumped back into his chair. "Well we'll need it now. For example, what is all this about a dower charter?"

Marcus huffed into his sleeve as he wiped his face and replied, "Probably some way to make certain that I can't touch all the Galleons that they are going to settle on her. They may make it as complex as they like, too, since I don't intend to use any of it. I can support my wife without their filthy gold."

Terrence peered surreptitiously at Marcus and sighed. It would do no good to point out to Marcus that a Yaxley would be an incredibly expensive witch to support. "With Interrogator Shipley as their Jurisconsultant any of the contracts that you will have to sign are likely to be unbreakable and as unbeneficial to you as they can make them."

"I don't really care, Terry. The important thing is that she'll be mine. They'll put the money in her hands, since I doubt she would agree to a trustee, which is good because she'll be able to take care of herself if anything happens to me. They'll require me to be faithful and to support any children, which I would do anyway. They might even include the Abandonment Curse, but it wouldn't matter if they did. I wouldn't. Let them put in all those preventative measures and restrictions, Terry. They will be unnecessary."

Terrence warned gravely, "Marcus, I do not doubt that you'll put everything you have into this marriage. What we need to look for is ways that they might write the marriage contract so that you could accidentally fail. We need a better Jurisconsultant than the one your father hired."

Marcus nodded. "I know. But I don't have any connexions to anyone who would dare go against Interrogator Shipley."

Terrence grinned conspiratorially. "No, yet I have an idea that there is someone who would not only do it but would relish the opportunity."

Sitting forward with surprise, Marcus asked, "Who?"

"His son. He has gone into litigations law, so this isn't his speciality, but Aldebaran Shipley would do anything to show up his father."

"Aldebaran Shipley. I remember that name."

Terrence laughed. "Of course you do. He was Head Boy when we were third-years. He was the last Slytherin Head Boy, in fact, and a vicious, nasty bastard whose only sign of humanity was his love for that little Hufflepuff Breochaid witch who was his pet cousin. He'll be perfect for us to use."

Marcus raised his brows and asked, "Shall I write to him?"

Terrence shook his head. "No, no. Let me handle this, Marcus. This is _my_ area."

* * *

"I suppose that you think it is my fault that we don't have a house elf in training to give to Etheldreda, but honestly Hunwald, how could I be expected to know that she would be marrying into a family that couldn't provide for their son decently?"

Hunwald reached out a hand and placed it gently on his wife's shoulder. "Of course I don't blame you, my love. You arranged very well for both Wilfred and Eldred's house elves. One will be ready for service next year and the other has been ready now for several months. That was excellent planning on your part. It was never the bride's family's job to provide the house elf, Wulfa my dear."

Wulfrida frowned at her reflection in the mirror. "Hand me that bottle there, Waldo. The gold one, no the other gold one. Yes, that."

Hunwald passed the gilded glass bottle to his wife and said, "I have contacted my Great Aunt Lysandra about your idea. She is going to will her house elf to Etheldreda when she dies. She was rather pleased about the idea, seemingly. Etheldreda has always been a favourite with Lysandra. But even as old as Lysandra is, there is no indication that she is going to pass on in the next few years."

"Well that is a relief about the elf, at least. Lysandra's house elf is quite young; she's only had him two or three years. If Etheldreda will have him to count on in the future then we need only find a temporary solution for now."

"We could always hire human help, my beautiful. There are plenty of young magical persons without education who would be only too pleased to work for a good family."

Wulfrida raised one eyebrow as she looked sharply at her husband's reflection and replied, "Not whilst I have a wand and gold in my dower account will I ever allow my daughter to be reduced to hiring human help. Never."

Hunwald leant forward and kissed Wulfrida's unresponsive cheek. "You have never been forced to touch your dowry before, Wulfa, and you won't be starting now. I will provide everything you and the children need."

"Hmm. That remains to be seen, Hunwald. Do you have any meetings tomorrow?"

"No, my love, I should be at home all day. And if I have to send one of our elves over there two mornings a week until Lysandra dies then we'll do that. I won't leave Etheldreda without help."

"That is a _last_ resort, Waldo. Anyway, I need for you to come with me to look at the house I think we shall purchase for Etheldreda. There really aren't any decent houses to be had in Cornwall. Celestina's idiot boy did have to play for a team in Cornwall of all barren, unpleasant places. I think that you will like the house, Waldo, but there are no real gardens. None of the houses had decent gardens."

Hunwald pulled his chair close enough to his wife that he could run a hand along her golden hair, which was hanging down her back in waves. "But does it have a decent library?"

"As nice as yours, I think."

"What about the upstairs study? She'll be able to work in private, away from any nursery?"

Wulfrida smiled, "Yes, Waldo. It has a very nice window seat, which you know Dreda likes, and a very deep fireplace so she won't get cold. In addition there is one wall of bookcases, so she can also keep books in her study."

Hunwald looked surprised. "Fireplaces, I had forgot about that. She won't be cold? The dining room, so often they forget to place decent fireplaces in dining rooms."

Shaking her head and reaching for her large silver hair brush, Wulfrida replied, "No, Waldo. Fireplaces in every room of the house, except two of the dressing rooms and a game room. I don't imagine our daughter using the game room."

"But her dressing room is acceptable?"

Pulling the ends of her curls through the brush as she looked her husband directly in the eye, Wulfrida replied calmly, "Well the larger one is the one without the fireplace, unfortunately. However the small one has a balcony with French doors, which Dreda would like, and a very cosy fireplace next to the dressing table nook. She would like it, I think."

Hunwald appeared pleased as he looped his finger through one of Wulfrida's curls and asked, "The Muggles will clear out of it in time for us to have it cleansed and prepared?"

Wulfrida grimaced. "Yes. They have already left the house. I can have it cleaned out by our own house elves, so we know it is done right. The Muggle lighting system and those plate things in the walls, what are those?"

"Power points for electricity."

"Yes, those. They'll be removed of course and the kitchens restored to working order. The magical retrofitters that I've hired did a house for the Gamps just four years ago and Petra was very pleased with them. Luckily there are none of those nasty black ropes going into the house."

Hunwald frowned. "No obvious Muggle damage was done to it?"

"I don't think so. But that is why I want you to look at it, Waldo. You're cleverer at noticing that sort of thing. If you approve of it then I'll feel comfortable going forward with it."

"You did remember that Dreda requested a small house, love? She was very determined about that."

"Well it only has 5 bedrooms. That is small enough, isn't it?"

Hunwald nodded and kissed his wife's cheek, this time eliciting a more interested response. "She said that she wanted something like our cottage on the Canary Islands. That one has six bedrooms, doesn't it?"

Wulfrida nodded. "Yes, that was what I kept in mind when I saw this house. Wilfred on the other hand is going to be much more difficult to please. His witch is making everything a challenge."

Hunwald's face clouded over as he replied tersely, "I don't care for Rosamunde Dawlish as a daughter-in-law, but if you don't make more of an effort with her, Wulfa, then you are going to lose your son's affections. He is already very unhappy with us both."

"I am entirely aware of that, Hunwald. I am trying. At least he's chosen a witch we know, who is intelligent and does at least love him enough. That surprised me, frankly, but even Eldred admits that she really does love our boy. Etheldreda likes the girl almost as much as she does Wendelin, so there shouldn't be any awkwardness there. You remember how Etheldreda treated Wilfred's previous romantic efforts. If I could be sure that I would never have to invite That Woman into my home then I could learn to reconcile myself to this girl well enough. But Wilfred is insisting that I invite That Woman to tea to meet the family. As if the stupid creature wants to socialise with us any more than we do with her."

Hunwald groaned. "He is correct, however. It would be a solecism not to invite the woman. I don't expect that we will have more interaction than once a year at the worst. Wilfred hates Marigold Dawlish more than you or I do. However he is going to do whatever it takes to make Rosamunde happy, so we'll have to comply."

Wulfrida spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm _trying_ to comply, Hunwald. But the woman is just so hopeless. I sent over that half case of Aphigorial Nectar for her and the bottle of L'Armagnac Noir de Limousin Fin Sec from your cellar for Henry Dawlish, but I haven't even got formal recognition of receipt. She isn't just a Muggle; she hasn't any sort of class."

Hunwald grunted. "She was probably overwhelmed. She might not know what either Aphigorial or L'Armagnac Noir is, but Dawlish would. You only sent the bottles over yesterday. She'll be using Muggle post, which takes longer than owls."

Wulfrida muttered, "Defending a Muggle," and then stood up from her chair and walked to the middle of three large wardrobes. As she opened the door she asked, "Did Wilfred speak to you about what sort of house he wants to buy or what this girl's family is going to give her in the way of possessions? I need to know, Waldo, because I'll have to start looking for things for them as well as for Dreda if the Dawlishs can't manage it."

As he watched with interest which of the row of silk gowns Wulfrida was choosing, Hunwald replied, "Let Wilfred organise his own affairs, my beautiful. I don't suppose that I could convince you to wear that new blue gown with which you conquered me last week?"

Wulfrida smiled innocently as she pointed at a very lacy light blue nightdress and asked sweetly, "You don't mean this one?"

Hunwald laughed. "I'd better go and change, as well. Don't worry about Wilfred, Wulfa. He will tell you what he wants."


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

"You know, you were rather clever, Marcus. You don't know how much Daddy was impressed that you had Aldebaran for your jurisconsultant. The perversity of it put him in such an excellent mood that he actually sent an invitation to Rosa's father to meet him at Andromeda next week."

Marcus looked down at Dreda, beside whom he had been walking silently for several minutes, and responded, "I can't really take credit for that. Terrence thought of it."

Dreda turned her face up to Marcus' and replied seriously, "It was a very good move nonetheless. Uncle Altair was furious, which really did put him off his stride, didn't it? It was a pity that your father and uncle did almost nothing for you in the negotiations, but you and Terrence still managed excellently on your own. Daddy told me that he is very pleased that you fought him so hard. He had begun to think that you were rather soft."

Marcus frowned. "What did you think, Dreda? That was what most concerned me."

Dreda looked somewhat confused. "Well of course you had to fight Daddy. You wouldn't want him to think that you were weak."

"You know that I would have accepted any terms to have you. Your father is aware of that, as well."

Dreda slipped her hand into Marcus' and answered, "Yes, but Aldebaran also must have known that I was just as determined, Marcus. He will have heard all about the row I had with Mother about marrying you, so he must have known that Daddy didn't have any bargaining power really."

Marcus tightened his fingers round Dreda's and asked, "Do you feel satisfied, Dreda? Did I do what you wanted then?"

"Well of course. We're to be married and that is all that matters."

Marcus replied in a very tense voice, "If that were all that mattered, Dreda, then we would have walked into the Ministry the day after you left school and been married there. It is important that we follow all the traditions that will make this feel right for you. So I am asking you again. Tell me whether you are satisfied, Dreda."

Unused to Marcus speaking in such a forceful tone, Dreda asked uncertainly, "You are unhappy about following tradition?"

Marcus swallowed heavily and replied, "I am willing to follow every archaic 'tradition' that you toss my way, Dreda, if that is what you need from me. I don't mind any of it as long as that is what you want, but you can't really think that I want any of this for myself." Looking at Dreda's surprised expression; Marcus cleared his throat and continued, "I understand the importance of it all. I am pure-blood; so I do understand. But it has nothing to do with me, Etheldreda. I don't actually care for the sake of my family or society or anyone else but you. I really don't. I don't care about houses, house-elves, or any of it. But no matter how I feel about it, I can't expect you to live in my flat with only the money I make from Quidditch. I still haven't been able to sell your first ring, so that is all I have at the moment. I don't want you to do without anything, Dreda, so I am going through these negotiations and since I know that tradition is important to you and then I will do whatever Terrence and Aldebaran Shipley tell me is right."

Dreda exclaimed with surprise, "You have been angry about this!"

"No, I'm not angry, but I am frustrated. I'm hearing from them what is right for you, but nothing from you. You spend more time with Wendelin Burke than with me and your letters are not very informative."

Dreda dropped Marcus' hand and turned sharply towards him. "But I'm not supposed to…"

"I don't give a damn what they say we are supposed to do, Dreda. Don't you want to see me? Isn't any part of you as lonely for me as I am for you? You are not in school any longer and your training doesn't start for another six weeks. Why do we have to be apart like this?"

"I do want to see you, Marcus. I have missed you."

Marcus wrapped Dreda's arm round his waist so she was pulled closer to him and did not relax his expression as he asked, "Then why is this only the third time that I have seen you _alone_ since you left Hogwarts? It is almost September."

Dreda replied in a wavering voice, "I don't know."

"Why are we waiting until March to be married?"

"I…I don't know, that is just the date that Daddy set."

"It doesn't take that long to get everything ready."

Dreda rubbed her eyes with one hand and answered, "I don't know. When do you want to be married?"

Marcus replied unhappily, "This afternoon would not be too soon for me, Dreda. But surely we don't have to wait seven more months."

"Why didn't you tell me that you wanted to get married sooner?"

Marcus laughed harshly. "Did I really need to tell you?"

"Well if you are going to be so upset with me for not talking to you about what I wanted then how can you be surprised that I might not know what you wanted when you never said anything either? What do you want, Marcus? Do you want me to forget those plans and go with you to the Ministry right now to sign all the papers?"

Marcus looked surprised. "No. You won't be happy if we do it that way, love."

"Well I won't be any happier if you're angry about following tradition."

Marcus placed both hands on Dreda's shoulders and stepped back slightly so he could see her face. "I told you already that I'm not angry, Dreda. I'm merely frustrated."

"Well I assumed you were on board with everything since you didn't say otherwise. But now that I know you were dissatisfied before then I'm also feeling frustrated, Marcus. What do you want for us to do?"

Marcus spoke haltingly, "Please don't see it that way, Dreda. I want to make certain that you have a decent house and all the things that you need. The marriage contract that our families have arranged is a good one. I just don't want to wait so long."

Dreda stared at the buttons on Marcus' cloak as she replied, "The house could probably be finished in a week if I forced the matter."

"That won't be enough time to notify everyone and plan the dinner. We will have the wedding dinner, love, and take our wedding tour."

Dreda shook her head. "I don't care. If you want to do it next week then we could."

"Yes you do care, Dreda. I care, too. I am looking forward to seeing you in your wedding robes especially. I've planned a particularly good tour for you, too."

Dreda seemed to fight with herself for a moment before she replied almost wistfully, "I wish it were now."

Marcus smiled slowly. "Do you really?"

Leaning her head against Marcus' arm, Dreda answered, "Of course I do. My robes will be ready in less than a month. Maybe…perhaps the week before my training begins."

"Do you want for me to ask Grant about that week?"

"Yes and if you can do it then I'll tell Daddy. He'll be livid."

Marcus looked down at Dreda uncertainly. Despite having just declared that her father would be furious about pushing up the wedding, Dreda had sounded very pleased.

* * *

"I don't know, Eldred. This whole event has become a duel between her mother and ours. I asked her again yesterday if she just wanted to go to the Ministry and finalise it all without the fuss and she looked like she wanted to say yes."

"No, don't do it that way, Will. Mother is counting on being allowed to be involved. Now that Dreda is married, Mother is feeling very lost. She couldn't take it if you rejected her wedding plans for you."

Wilfred scowled darkly. "I don't know how she even has the energy to plan a formal event when she just finished Dreda's wedding. Mum got to do everything for Dreda – even the oldest, mustiest traditions. I never thought our sister would actually want a formal contract signing."

"I've told you before, Will, but you have never quite understood Dreda. I never expected anything less than every single tradition that Mother and Father had almost twenty-five years ago. When her first baby is born in a year or so Dreda will want both the blessing and the christening ceremonies, you may count on it."

"Thanks, Eldred. Our sister having a baby with Flint – just what I wanted to think about right now."

"If you can't learn to be more reasonable when dealing with Flint then Dreda is going to stop talking to you altogether. As it is she is only on speaking terms with you because of Rosamunde."

Wilfred scowled unhappily as he snarled through his teeth, "I am aware of it."

Glancing at his brother, who was now angrily pacing the floor in front of the fireplace, Eldred sighed and said, "Rosamunde has looked very tired the last few times I saw her here, Will."

Wilfred lifted his head and asked sharply, "Has she? Perhaps those clods at the Ministry have been working her too hard. I shouldn't have been keeping her out so late in the evenings. She has so much to do with her new job."

Satisfied that he had turned his brother's attention away from the sticky subject of Dreda and Marcus, Eldred returned his attention to the thick packet of parchment on his desk that outlined Archibald Grant's formal business plan. As Wilfred marched back and forth across the deep red rug in front of the glowing coal fire in Eldred's office, Eldred tuned half an ear to check the progress of Wilfred's rant and the rest of his attention to his most promising business venture. After almost fifteen minutes, in which he had needed to say no more than a steady stream of reassurances that Wilfred was indeed an excellent fiancé and Rosamunde was not likely to run off with the ginger-haired assistant in Magical Cooperation, Eldred pulled out his Compulsatory Quill and signed the papers in front of him. As he got up from his chair and walked towards his owl's cage with the scrolled proposal in his hand, Eldred asked in a different tone, "Have you heard from Cary or Thes in the last week, Will?"

Surprised out of his contemplation of Rosamunde's possible interest in touring one of the smaller dragon preserves, Wilfred replied unguardedly, "They are all in Ireland again. Why?"

As he stamped the molten wax on the scroll and returned his signet ring to his finger, Eldred responded, "I have reason to believe that not everyone has been as silent as we have."

"What are you saying? Are they in danger?"

"If you know more about what they are planning, Will, you have to tell me. I have been tipped off that information is being shared between the Aurors and the Hit Wizards. I know that Cary still writes to you even though Thes has stopped accepting my owls. What do you know?"

As he watched his brother tie the scroll to a large white owl's leg, Wilfred irritably asked, "Why do you keep asking me, Eldred? When have I ever kept anything important from you?"

Scowling angrily, Eldred released the owl and shut the window before he returned to the desk to stack several thick scrolls of parchment inside the top drawer of his desk. After a moment Eldred replied sourly, "I can't assume anything with you any more, Will. Since you first took notice of Rosamunde Dawlish everything has changed with you."

Wilfred shook his head. "Nothing would really ever come between us, Eldred."

Eldred sharply glanced up at his twin from arranging his letters and bitterly replied, "You raised your wand to me, Will."

With a frown Wilfred ran his fingers through his long hair nervously before shamefacedly asking, "What does that matter? We've raised our wands before."

"Never in earnest. You would have spoken a real curse – you could have done anything at that moment. You wanted me dead, Will."

"No, Eldred. No. That is _not_ true."

"Don't remake the situation, Will. I was there. I told you that I would not forget how you had made your choice. If I stood in the way of you getting your witch you would kill me now, Will."

"I would for anyone else, but not you Eldred. I didn't choose her over you."

"Yes, you did. I'm not going to stop you from getting what you want, Will, so stop looking so concerned. You may have your witch and I'll stand up with you for the wedding. I've already signed the papers to allow you an allotment of the first son's inheritance."

"What? That is your inheritance, Eldred; I don't want your gold."

"I promised you half of the unentailed property long ago. Did you think I would forget that?"

"I hoped that you would. I don't want to take anything away from you Eldred. Father would have given me something."

"Shut up, Will."

"Eldred, listen…"

Ignoring his twin's continuing protest, Eldred waved his wand along the front of his desk, causing all the keys in the drawers to turn and disappear before he picked up his cloak from the chair. However as he moved to drape the cloak round his shoulders an expression of alarm passed over his face and he began to dig hastily in his pocket at the same moment that Wilfred made a lunge for his own cloak. Both wizards simultaneously pulled out small black disks that were vibrating wildly.

As he dropped his cloak onto the floor and pulled out his wand Wilfred exclaimed in disbelief, "Both of them!"

"Apparate at least 100 yards away, Will. We don't know who is there. If there are Ministry Hit Wizards present we don't want to be seen."

"Right, right. Standard Disillusionment. I know."

Wilfred grimaced at his brother before spinning on his heel and popping from view. Eldred cast his own Disillusionment Charm and then turned to Apparate away.

* * *

"Will Hilliard's family be coming, Violetta? I don't think I can face Wilfred's mother if I can't give her the final guest list soon."

Pausing in the middle of removing a large red Remembrall from the hands of a young boy with an unusually broad face, Violetta Dawlish Hobday shrugged and replied casually, "I doubt they will come, Rosa."

Looking rather relieved, Rosamunde turned from her sister to peer towards where her mother was sorting through a large pile of scrolled parchments. "What about Uncle Ian, Mum?"

"I don't think that any of my brothers will be coming, Rosamunde. They were unsettled enough by your sister's wedding, which I can't say was surprising after what your father's uncle did."

Violetta's gaze snapped away from her son towards her mother. "Well everyone knows not to allow Great-Uncle Halder to have any of the Bloodwhisky. There were supposed to be three of our cousins watching him, too. Anyway, I thought that it was rather funny."

Marigold Dawlish's eyes narrowed as she looked at her eldest daughter and responded, "Your Uncle Thomas's wife was humiliated."

"Oh, pooh. It isn't as if he didn't switch everyone's noses, Mum. Mine was the ugliest one possible and I was in half the pictures with it. Aunt Jacinta is just being difficult – as per normal."

"Well I don't think that any of my brothers or their wives will be coming unless Rosamunde will guarantee that Halder and that Great-Aunt of your father's won't be attending."

Rosamunde covered her face with her hands and uncharacteristically remained silent. Coming to her sister's aid unexpectedly, Violetta answered, "I think that it is better if they don't come, Mum. Magic always makes them nervous and if they are afraid of Great-Aunt Drusilla then the Yaxley and Burke families will terrify them."

Rosamunde nodded mutely and smoothed out the dark blue parchment on the table in front of her.

Marigold Dawlish frowned disapprovingly at her elder daughter, but did not contradict Violetta's statement. After several moments, she commented sharply, "You are very quiet today, Rosamunde."

Rosamunde nodded and sighed almost inaudibly before looking at the jar of Floo powder above the fireplace. "Do you want me to invite all your family anyway, Mum? They don't have to come; in fact I think that Violetta is right. They'll be scared out of their mind by even Wilfred's tamest relatives and we all know that this wedding is only a one-day truce regarding blood purity."

"Of course you will invite your family, Rosamunde."

"Fine. That was all I needed to know. I won't be able to go for the fitting this afternoon, Mum. I'm sorry. I need to go over to the Yaxley's."

"This is the second rescheduling for this robe fitting, Rosa. You may tell Yaxley that he will see you tomorrow."

Rosamunde shook her head and tucked the parchment in her pocket. "I can't, Mum. This isn't about Wilfred. Wendelin's brother Theseus was killed yesterday in a duel with two Ministry Hit Wizards. Dreda is Apparating in from Cornwall and we are going to sit with Wendelin until the body is removed this evening. Wilfred is still being questioned, so Eldred is going to escort us over."

Marigold frowned, "Was your young wizard involved in something, Rosamunde?"

"No, Mum. He has sworn to me that he was not and I believe him. Are you finished with the list? Because I would like to deliver it to Mrs Yaxley when I see her."

Marigold handed the thick scroll with the addresses and names of all the invitees on it to Rosamunde and replied peevishly, "I do hope that your faith in your young man is not misplaced. He seems to have been extremely friendly with that lot, has he not?"

Rosamunde turned towards the fire grate without responding to her mother, but looked briefly at her older sister in a silent appeal. Violetta nodded and gestured to the fireplace, so Rosamunde dropped the Floo powder and spoke very firmly, "Ethelwulfburga, Yaxley, Cambridgeshire".

As she stepped out into the front drawing room of the Yaxley estate, Rosamunde paused only long enough to pull out her handkerchief and then hurried out of the room as she wiped the soot from her face. When she saw the hunched figure of the Head House-elf coming towards her, Rosamunde asked shortly, "Where is Mrs Flint, please?"

The elderly house-elf bowed low and said deferentially, "Miss Etheldreda is in the morning parlour with my Lady Mistress, young miss."

Rosamunde nodded and replied, "Thank you. I can find my way."

The house-elf bowed again, but turned to lead the way down the West Corridor towards the back of the house.

Rosamunde frowned, but followed the elderly house-elf through the exquisitely polished and opulently furnished corridor past a half dozen heavily carved doors until they reached the second to last room. The house-elf turned the gleaming brass wolf's head that served as a door handle and, as the large oak door opened, Rosamunde could see her prospective mother-in-law and Dreda sitting on a small settee together, silently reading a long grey parchment.

Looking up as she heard the door open, Dreda smiled limply and said, "There you are, Rosa. We have just had an owl from Daddy. They are holding Cary for trial, of course, but they have finished questioning Wilfred. He should be able to meet us at Uncle Hubert's house soon."

Rosamunde turned her very white face towards Wulfrida, who was still reading the parchment, and asked uneasily, "Does Mr Yaxley say whether they found any trace of Wilfred's Apparition trail?"

Wulfrida looked up and considered her future daughter-in-law for a moment. "You do not believe that Wilfred was uninvolved?"

Rosamunde waved her hand dismissively. "No more than you do. Of course he was there, and I would imagine Eldred was, too."

Wulfrida nodded. "They could only trace that two warlocks Apparated 100 yards away using Andromeda-level Disillusionment Charms, but since neither were seen nor were any spells cast from that direction there is no evidence to hold Wilfred or Eldred even if they could be proved to be those warlocks."

"So he is alright? He won't be charged with anything?"

Wulfrida passed the parchment to Dreda, who was watching her friend with surprise, and stood up. "No, dear, they won't get him. He is safe."

Rosamunde sighed heavily and choked back a sob as she replied, "Right, good. Ok."

Wulfrida placed a hand on Rosamunde's shoulder and said gently, "He will be returned to us, dear. Hunwald has sworn to me that he will be able to keep Wilfred protected."

Rosamunde nodded and looked seriously at Wulfrida as she answered, "Thank you."

Dreda set the parchment down on the low, fiercesomely carved ebony table in front of her and got up to place her arm round her friend's shoulders. "He really will be alright, you know. Will is awfully good at looking out for himself. Both of them are, really."

However, before Rosamunde could say anything, the door to the room loudly slapped open to reveal Eldred, who marched forcefully into the room with a crumpled piece of white parchment in his hands.

Wulfrida hurried forward and clutched her son's arm as she asked fearfully, "What is wrong? Is it your brother?"

"No. Will sent this, actually. He was already released and he went directly to Uncle Hubert's house, thinking he could help relieve Aunt Althea's mind that Cary was doing alright. Will saw Cary only last night, you know, when they were both being questioned down at the Ministry."

Dreda asked in a strangely high-pitched voice, "Well what is it then?"

"Well they were supposed to be taking Cary to Azkaban this morning. But he didn't make it there. Wendelin and Yevgeny Cherchenko attacked the four guards who were escorting him, one of the guards is in quite serious condition at St Mungo's actually, and they have now all three escaped."

Dreda cried out softly in surprise and wailed, "Oh Wendelin! No, no, no, no."

However Rosamunde looked less surprised as she nodded grimly to Eldred. "She couldn't let him go to Azkaban, Dreda."

Eldred watched his mother with deep concern as she sank heavily into the large blue silk chair behind her and stared at the large portrait of Walden Burke that hung above the fireplace. Yet, instead of going to comfort his mother like normal, he pulled his sister towards him and placed his left arm tightly round her. "I would do nothing less for you or Will, Dreda. You know that."

"But now she is lost, Eldred. She is lost and _Cary isn't even worth it_."

* * *

Dreda let the last page of the Daily Prophet drop onto the floor beside her chair and turned towards her husband, saying, "I never thought Minister Fudge had such complete control over the press, did you? I suppose I thought that others had more influence, too."

Marcus lifted his head from staring closely at a rough spot on the handle of his Moontrimmer. "I don't suppose I really thought about it, love. But he did keep every mention of that mess with your cousins out of the paper back in July, didn't he? And with that Hit Wizard managing to die from Wendelin's curse it must have been some bother to hush up, too. It doesn't seem too far-fetched that he would do something similar now, does it?"

Dreda frowned. "We don't know it was Wendelin's curse. It could just as easily have been Cherchenko or even Cary if he got hold of a wand. But you are right, there wasn't even a mention of Cary's arrest or Theseus' death, let alone the escape. But I almost pity the Potter boy – the Minister is dragging Potter through the mud pretty thoroughly."

Marcus whacked the shiny tin of broom handle polish in his hand onto the table and growled, "Potter got exactly what he deserved. Long past time if you ask me."

Dreda shrugged. "I had forgot that you played him in Quidditch. I only meant that I don't like lies being spread about someone needlessly. Because of course Potter is not wrong about the Dark Lord."

Marcus leant back towards his broom handle and answered, "Well anyone with sense knows that Diggory didn't fall dead of his own accord, did he? But that doesn't mean I intend to be maudlin about it, Dreda."

Dreda sighed. "You played Diggory, too? Well I suppose it doesn't matter really. Father says that we should keep our noses clean for as long as possible. He is funding Uncle Edmund again, of course, but he does not want any of us choosing a side this time. He has forbidden Will and Eldred from funding Cary either."

Marcus shrugged. "I won't pretend I wouldn't like to see the Dark Lord succeed this time, Dreda. But I won't do anything to actually promote our side any more than I shall do anything to help the Ministry. I cannot afford to do anything that might jeopardise my future with the team."

Dreda shook her head. "Well naturally not, Marcus, especially now that you are to be Captain next year. Won't you be one of the youngest professional Captains ever?"

Marcus laughed. "Hardly. I will be nearly 22. The youngest ever Captain was 16, back in 1649. But I will be the youngest Captain that the Falcons have ever had, which is something."

Dreda glanced proudly over at her husband. "Well I think it is something, yes. You are doing really well, you know, Marcus. I am terribly proud of you."

Marcus laid his polishing rag over the handle of his classic broom and walked across the room towards his wife. "You're doing brilliantly yourself, love. Who is that hag-looking witch that I met at the Christmas party last night?"

"Madame Desmerta?"

"Yes, well she could not shut up about how clever you are and how much her section is hoping you will be assigned to them when your training year is over."

Dreda sat up straighter and looked at Marcus with interest. "Really? That is surprising. She must have had far more to drink than I had supposed. If I had known that I should have tried to get her to talk about the upcoming Standard Trial."

"That the one when you will have your wands taken and be left with only the book of your choice?"

Dreda stood up so quickly that the chair fell backwards. "I have no idea. Is that what she told you?"

Marcus smiled slowly. "Oh, so you would like to hear more about it, would you?"

Dreda stomped her foot and said forcefully, "It is not funny, Marcus. I need to know what she told you. It could make all the difference in whether I pass with distinction or merely pass this next Standard Trial."

Marcus moved so close to his wife that she had to lean her head far back in order to see his face as he asked, "What will you give me if I tell you?"

"I don't want to play games, Marcus. Tell me, please."

Marcus shook his head. "But I do. So tell me, what will I get, hmm?"

Dreda looked into Marcus' smiling face and groaned. "What if I promise you that I shan't open a book all morning? We can spend time together. That is if you can tear yourself away from your broom."

Marcus laughed deeply and replied, "My broom hardly compares to you, love. Not even the 'Trimmer. But I think I need more than just a morning. I think you need to promise not to even think about books all day. It is Christmas after all, love, you are entitled to a holiday."

Dreda sighed. "I don't think I really intended to study today anyway, Marcus. I have missed you. We have hardly had an hour together in almost a month with your team schedule and my training."

Marcus smiled down at his wife. "I thought today was a soft proposal. You have been looking too tired. What do you say we go up to Grant's cottage in Ayrshire? He has offered it to us for this whole week actually."

Dreda nodded. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? I would like a chance of scenery."

"It isn't the scenery I want changed, love, since I'm only looking at you no matter where we are. It is the privacy I want. Your sister-in-law has a bad habit of bursting out of the Floo grate and interrupting some of our better moments."

Dreda rolled her eyes, but did not seem displeased as Marcus pulled her close again and leant down for a very soft kiss. "Why don't you owl Grant then? Anyway, once you tell me about what Madame Desmerta said I have some special news to tell, too."

* * *

Author's Note: This is the end of the story. War is building - this story ends at Christmas time during Harry's 5th year - so none of these characters will be untouched by those events. I have purposedly chosen not to specifically address what would happen to all these characters in the final books. Yet I have planted none-too-subtle clues for anyone who is interested, so hopefully you can sort it out on your own. I hope that you have enjoyed reading the story. 


End file.
